CHARLES  MAURICE  DE  TALLEYKANZJ. 


/IDafeers  ot  tnstorg 


BY 

JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT 


WI'H  ENGRAVINGS 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1904 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  forty-nine,  by 

HABFRB  &  BROTHERS. 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


IN  this  history  of  Maria  Antoinette  it  has 
been  my  endeavor  to  give  a  faithful  narrative 
of  facts,  and,  so  far  as  possible,  to  exhibit  the 
soul  of  history.  A  more  mournful  tragedy 
earth  has  seldom  witnessed.  And  yet  the 
lesson  is  full  of  instruction  to  all  future  ages. 
Intelligence  and  moral  worth  combined  can 
be  the  only  basis  of  national  prosperity  or  do- 
mestic happiness.  But  the  simple  story  itself 
carries  with  it  its  own  moral,  and  the  reflec- 
tions of  the  writer  would  encumber  rather 
than  enforce  its  teachings. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.   PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.... , 13 

II.   BRIDAL   DAYS 37 

HI.  MARIA    ANTOINETTE   ENTHRONED 76 

IV.   THE   DIAMOND  NECKLACE 105 

V.  THE   MOB   AT   VERSAILLES 131 

VI.  THE    PALACE   A   PRISON 164 

VII.   THE    FLIGHT 189 

VIII.  THE    RETURN   TO   PARIS 214 

IX.   IMPRISONMENT    IN    THE    TEMPLE 239 

X.    EXECUTION   OF  THE  KING.' 272 

XI.   TRIAL   AND    EXECUTION    OF    MARIA  ANTOINETTE    290 
XIL    THE    PRINCESS    ELIZABETH,  THE    DAUPHIN,  AND 

THJE   PBINCBSS   ROYAL '.  „    304 


ENGRAVINGS, 


P«ge 
VIEW  OF  PARIS Frontispiece. 

BRIDAL   TOUR..  48 


VERSAILLES — FRONT    VIEW  i 
VERSAILLES COURT-YARD 


FOUNTAINS  AT   VERSAILLES 


69 

FOUNTAIN   OF    THE    STAR 

LITTLE   TRIANON 74 

GARDENS    OF    MARLY 93 

VIEW    OF  THE   BASTILE 134 

GARDENS    AT  VERSAILLES 144 

MOB    AT  VERSAILLES 151 

GRAND    AVENUE    OF    THE    TUILERIES 156 

PALACE   OP  ST.   CLftuD 184 

CAPTURE   AT  VARENNES 208 

THE   TUILERIES 221 

THE    TOWER   OF   THE    TEMPLE 257 

THE   ROYAL   FAMILY   IN    THE   TEMPLE 262 

MARIA   ANTOINETTE    IN   THE  CONCIERGERIE. .  .    296 


MARIA  ANTOINETTE 

CHAPTER   L 
PARENTAGE   AND  CHILDHOOD. 

Maria  Theresa.  She  toeoeed*  to  tfa*  Ihraa* 

|~N  the  year  1740,  Charles  VI.,  emperor  of 
L  Austria,  died.  He  left  a  daughter  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  Maria  Theresa,  to  inherit  the 
crown  of  that  powerful  empire.  She  had  been 
married  about  four  years  to  Francis,  duke  of 
Lorraine.  The  day  after  the  death  of  Charles, 
Maria  Theresa  ascended  the  throne.  The  treas- 
ury of  Austria  was  empty.  A  general  feeling 
of  discontent  pervaded  the  kingdom.  Saveral 
claimants  to  the  throne  rose  to  dispute  the  sue- 
cession  with  Maria ;  and  France,  Spain,  Prussia, 
and  Bavaria  took  advantage  of  the  new  reign, 
and  of  the  embarrassments  which  surrounded 
the  youthful  queen,  to  enlarge  their  own  bord* 
sn  by  wresting  territory  from  Austria. 

The  young  queen,  harassed  by  dissensions 
at  home  and  by  the  combined  armies  of  her 
powerful  foes,  beheld,  with  anguish  which  bei 


14  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         J1740 

Success  of  Maria  Theresa's  enemies.  Her  flight  to  Hungary 

proud  and  imperious  spirit  could  hardly  endure, 
her  troops  defeated  and  scattered  in  every  direo- 
tion,  and  the  victorious  armies  of  her  enemies 
marching  almost  unimpeded  toward  her  capital 
The  exulting  invaders,  intoxicated  with  unan- 
ticipated success,  now  contemplated  the  entire 
division  of  the  spoil.  They  decided  to  blot  Aus- 
tria from  the  map  of  Europe,  and  to  partition 
out  the  conglomerated  nations  composing  the 
empire  among  the  conquerors. 

Maria  Theresa  retired  from  her  capital  as 
the  bayonets  of  France  and  Bavaria  gleamed 
from  the  hill-sides  which  environed  the  city. 
Her  retreat  with  a  few  disheartened  followers, 
in  the  gloom  of  night,  was  illumined  by  the 
flames  of  the  bivouacs  of  hostile  armies,  with 
which  the  horizon  seemed  to  be  girdled.  The 
invaders  had  possession  of  every  strong  post  in 
the  empire.  The  beleaguered  city  was  sum- 
moned to  surrender.  Resistance  was  unavail- 
ing. All  Europe  felt  that  Austria  was  hope- 
lessly undone.  Maria  fled  from  the  dangers  of 
oaptivity  into  the  wilds  of  Hungary:  But  in 
this  dark  hour,  when  the  clouds  of  adversity 
seemed  to  be  settling  in  blackest  masses  ovei 
her  whole  realm,  when  hope  had  abandoned  ev- 
ery bosom  but  her  own,  the  spirit  of  Maria  re- 


1740.]  PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.       Iff 

The  queen's  SrmneM.  The  Hungirian  twroM. 

mained  as  firm  and  inflexible  as  if  victory  were 
perched  upon  her  standards,  and  her  enemies 
were  flying  in  dismay  before  her.  She  would 
not  listen  to  one  word  of  compromise.  She 
would  not  admit  the  thought  of  surrendering 
one  acre  of  the  dominions  she  had  inherited  from 
her  fathers.  Calm,  unagitated,  and  determined, 
she  summoned  around  her,  from  their  feudal 
castles,  the  wild  and  warlike  barons  of  Hunga- 
ry. With  neighing  steeds,  and  flaunting  ban- 
ners, and  steel-clad  retainers,  and  all  the  para- 
phernalia of  barbaric  pomp,  these  chieftains, 
delighting  in  the  excitements  of  war,  gathered 
around  the  heroic  queen.  The  spirit  of  ancient 
chivalry  still  glowed  in  these  fierce  hearts,  and 
they  gazed  with  a  species  of  religious  homage 
upon  the  young  queen,  who,  in  distress,  had 
fled  to  their  wilds  to  invoke  the  aid  of  their 
strong  arms. 

Maria  met  them  in  council     They  assem 
bled  around  her  by  thousands  in  all  the  impos- 
ing splendor  of  the  garniture  of  war.     Maria 
appeared  before  these  stern  chieftains  dressed ' 
in  the  garb  of  the  deepest  mourning,  with  the 
crown  of  her  ancestors  upon  her  brow,  her  right 
hand  resting  upon  the  hilt  of  the  sword  of  the 
Austrian  kings,  and  leading  bv  her  left  hand 


16  MARI>    ANTOINETTE.         [1740 

The  qusen'i  appeal.  Enthisiasm  of  her  subject* 

aer  little  daughter  Maria  Antoinette.  The  pale 
and  pensive  features  of  the  queen  attested  the 
•esolute  soul  which  no  disasters  could  subdue. 
Her  imperial  spirit  entranced  &n<*  overawed  the 
bold  knights,  who  had  ever  lived  in  the  realms 
of  romance.  Maria  addressed  the  Hungarian 
barons  in  an  impressive  speech  in  Latin,  the 
language  then  in  use  in  the  diets  of  Hungary, 
faithfully  describing  the  desperate  state  of  her 
affairs.  She  committed  herself  and  her  chil- 
dren to  their  protection,  and  urged  them  to  drive 
the  invaders  from  the  land  or  to  perish  in  the 
attempt.  It  was  just  the  appeal  to  rouse  such 
hearts  to  a  phrensy  of  enthusiasm.  The  youth, 
the  beauty,  the  calamities  of  the  queen  roused 
to  the  utmost  intensity  the  ohivalrio  devotion 
of  these  warlike  magnates,  and  grasping  their 
swords  and  waving  them  above  their  heads, 
they  shouted  simultaneously,  "Moriamur  pro 
rege  nostro,  Maria  Theresa" — "Let  us  die  for 
our  king-,  Maria  Theresa" 

Until  now,  the  queen  had  preserved  a  de- 
meanor perfectly  tranquil  and  majestic.  But 
this  affectionate  enthusiasm  of  her  subjects  en* 
tirely  overcame  her  imperious  spirit,  and  she 
•burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  But,  apparently 
ashamed  of  this  exhibition  of  womanly  feeling 


1740.J  PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.      17 

TV>  queen  heads  her  army.  She  overthrow*  her  «Mnta» 

•he  almost  immediately  regained  her  composure, 
and  resumed  the  air  of  the  indomitable  sover- 
eign. The  war  cry  immediately  resounded 
throughout  Hungary.  Chieftains  and  vassal* 
rallied  around  the  banner  of  Maria.  In  oerson 
she  inspected  and  headed  the  gathering  army, 
and  her  spirit  inspired  them.  With  the  ferocity 
of  despair,  these  new  recruits  hurled  themselves 
upon  the  invaders.  A  few  battles,  desperate 
and  sanguinary,  were  fought,  and  the  army  of 
Maria  was  victorious.  England  and  Holland, 
apprehensive  that  the  destruction  of  the  Aus- 
trian empire  would  destroy  the  balance  of  powex 
in  Europe,  and  encouraged  by  the  successful  re- 
sistance which  the  Austrians  were  now  making, 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  heroic  queen.  The 
tide  of  battle  was  turned.  The  armies  of 
France,  Germany,  and  Spain  were  driven  from 
the  territory  which  they  had  overrun.  Maria, 
with  untiring  energy,  followed  up  her  successes. 
She  pursued  her  retreating  foes  into  their  own 
Bountry,  and  finally  granted  peace  to  her  ene« 
mies  only  by  wresting  from  them  large  portions 
rf  their  territory.  The  renown  of  these  ex- 
ploits resounded  through  Europe.  The  name 
of  Maria  Theresa  was  embalmed  throughout 
the  civilized  world.  Under  her  vigorous  giray 
11—2 


18  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1740 

Character  of  Maria  There**.  Character  of  her  htuband 

Austria,  from  the  very  brink  of  ruin,  was  ele- 
vated to  a  degree  of  splendor  and  power  it  had 
never  attained  before.  These  conflicts  and  vio 
tories  inspired  Maria  with  a  haughty  and  im- 
perious spirit,  and  the  loveliness  of  the  female 
character  was  lost  amid  the  pomp  of  martial 
achievements.  The  proud  sovereign  eclipsed 
the  woman. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  such  a  bosom 
oould  be  the  shrine  of  tenderness  and  affection 
Maria's  virtues  were  all  of  the  masculine  gen- 
der. She  really  loved,  or,  rather,  liked  her  hus- 
band ;  but  it  was  with  the  same  kind  of  emo- 
tion with  which  an  energetic  and  ambitious 
man  loves  his  wife.  She  cherished  him,  pro- 
tected him,  watched  over  him,  and  loaded  him 
with  honors.  He  was  of  a  mild,  gentle,  con- 
fiding spirit,  and  would  have  made  a  lovely  wife 
She  was  ambitious,  fearless,  and  commanding, 
and  would  have  made  a  noble  husband.  In  fact, 
this  was  essentially  the  relation  which  existed 
between  them.  Maria  Theresa  governed  thfl 
empire,  while  Francis  loved  and  caressed  the 
children 

The  queen,  by  her  armies  and  her  political 
influence,  had  succeeded  in  having  Francis 
Browned  Emperor  of  Germany  She  rtood  upon 


1745.]  PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.      19 

Crowning  of  Francis.  Muim  ThereM't  ret  own 

the  balcony  as  the  imposing  ceremony  was  per- 
"ormed,  and  was  the  first  to  shout  "  Long  live 
the  Emperor  Francis  I."  Like  Napoleon,  she 
had  become  the  creator  of  kings.  Austria  was 
now  in  the  greatest  prosperity,  and  Maria  The- 
resa the  most  illustrious  queen  in  Europe.  He/ 
renown  filled  the  civilized  world.  Through  her 
whole  reign,  though  she  became  the  mother  of 
sixteen  children,  she  devoted  herself  with  un- 
tiring energy  to  the  aggrandizement  of  her  em- 
pire. She  united  with  Russia  and  Prussia  in 
the  infamous  partition  of  Poland,  and  in  the 
banditti  division  of  the  spoil  she  annexed  to  her 
own  dominions  twenty-seven  thousand  square 
miles  and  two  millions  five  hundred  thousand 
Inhabitants. 

From  this  exhibition  of  the  character  of  Maria 
Theresa,  the  mother  of  Maria  Antoinette,  the 
reader  will  not  be  surprised  that  she  should  have 
inspired  her  children  with  awe  rather  than  with 
affection.  In  truth,  their  imperial  mother  was 
so  devoted  to  the  cares  of  the  empire,  that  she 
was  almost  a  stranger  to  her  children,  and  could 
have  known  herself  but  few  of  the  emotions  of 
maternal  love  Her  children  were  placet  under 
the  care  of  nurses  and  governesses  from  their 
oirth.  Once  in  every  eight  or  ten  da^s  the 


20  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         I174& 

MarU  ThervM'i  •ternneM.  Anecdote 

queen  appropriated  an  honr  for  the  inspection 
of  the  nursery  and  the  apajrtments  appropriated 
to  the  children;  and  she  performed  this  duty 
with  the  same  fidelity  with  which  she  examined 
the  wards  of  the  state  hospitals  and  the  military 
schools. 

The  following  anecdote  strikingly  illustrates 
the  austere  and  inflexible  character  of  the  em- 
press. The  wife  of  her  son  Joseph  died  of  the 
confluent  small-pox,  and  her  body  had  been  con- 
signed to  the  vaults  of  the  royal  tomb.  Soon 
after  this  event,  Josepha,  one  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  empress,  was  to  be  married  to  the 
King  of  Naples.  The  arrangements  had  all 
been  made  for  their  approaching  nuptials,  and 
she  was  just  on  the  point  of  leaving  Vienna 
to  ascend  the  Neapolitan  throne,  when  she  re- 
ceived an  order  from  her  mother  that  she  must 
not  depart  from  the  empire  until  she  had,  in  ao- 
eordance  with  the  established  custom,  descended 
into  the  tomb  of  her  ancestors  and  offered  hei 
parting  prayer.  •  The  young  princess,  in  an  ag- 
ony of  consternation,  received  the  cruel  requiai- 
tion.  Yet  she  dared  not  disobey  her  mother. 
She  took  her  little  sister,  Maria  Antoinette, 
whom  she  loved  most  tenderly,  upon  her  knee, 
and,  weeping  bitterly,  bade  her  farewell,  saying 


1765.]  PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.     21 

fatal  remit  Death  of  Pranei* 

that  she  was  sure  she  should  take  the  dreadra. 
disease  and  die.  Trembling  in  every  fiber,  the 
unhappy  princess  descended  into  the  gloomy 
jopuloher,  where  the  bodies  of  generations  of 
kings  were  moldering.  She  hurried  through 
her  short  prayer,  and  in  the  deepest  agitation 
returned  to  the  palace,  and  threw  herself  in  de- 
spair upon  her  bed. 

Her  worst  apprehensions  were  realized.  The 
fatal  disease  had  penetrated  her  veins.  Soon  it 
manifested  itself  in  its  utmost  virulence.  After 
lingering  a  few  days  and  nights  in  dreadful  suf- 
fering, she  breathed  her  last,  and  her  own  loath- 
some remains  were  consigned  to  the  same  silent 
chambers  of  the  dead.  Maria  Theresa  com- 
manded her  child  to  do  no  more  than  she  would 
have  insisted  upon  doing  herself  under  similar 
circumstances.  And  when  she  followed  her 
daughter  to  the  tomb,  she  probably  allowed  her- 
self to  indulge  in  no  regrets  in  view  of  the  coarse 
•he  had  pursued,  but  consoled  herself  with  the 
reflection  that  she  had  done  her  duty. 

The  Emperor  Francis  died,  1765,  leaving 
Maria  Theresa  still  in  the  vigor  of  life,  and  quite 
t»eautifnl.  Three  of  her  oounselors  of  state,  am- 
bitious of  sharing  the  throne  with  the  illustri- 
tn>  queen,  entered  into  a  compart,  by  wbiob 


23  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1755 

flan  of  the  counselor*.  Birth  of  Maria  Antoinette. 

they  were  all  to  endeavor  to  obtain  her  hand  in 
marriage,  agreeing  that  the  successful  one 
should  devote  the  power  thus  obtained  to  the 
aggrandizement  of  the  other  two.  The  empress 
was  informed  of  this  arrangement,  and,  at  the 
close  of  a  cabinet  council,  took  occasion,  with 
great  dignity  and  composure,  to  inform  them 
that  she  did  not  intend  ever  again  to  enter  into 
the  marriage  state,  but  that,  should  she  hereaft- 
er change  her  mind,  it  would  only  be  in  favor  of 
one  who  had  no  ambitious  desires,  and  who 
would  have  no  inclination  to  intermeddle  with 
the  affairs  of  state ;  and  that,  should  she  ever 
marry  one  of  her  ministers,  she  should  immedi- 
ately remove  him  from  all  office.  Her  coun- 
selors, loving  power  more  than  all  things  else, 
immediately  abandoned  every  thought  of  ob- 
taining the  hand  of  Maria  at- such  a  sacrifice. 

Maria  Antoinette,  the  subject  of  this  biogra- 
phy, was  born  on  the  2d  of  November,  1755. 
Few  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  world  have  com- 
menced life  under  circumstances  of  greater 
splendor,  or  with  more  brilliant  prospects  of  a 
life  replete  with  happiness.  She  was  a  child  of 
great  vivacity  and  beauty,  full  of  light-hearted- 
ness,  and  ever  prone  to  look  upon  the  sunny  side 
of  every  prospect.  Her  disposition  was  frank, 


1755.]    PAKKNTAOK   AND  CHILDHOOD.     23 

Mart*  Antoinette'*  charscter  AAactinf  **** 

cordial,  and  affectionate.  Her  mental  endow- 
mcnts  were  by  nature  of  a  very  superior  order 
Laughing  at  the  restraints  of  royal  etiquette, 
she,  by  her  generous  and  confiding  spirit,  won 
the  love  of  all  hearts.  Maria  Antoinette  wa§ 
but  slightly  acquainted  with  her  imperial  moth- 
er, and  could  regard  her  with  no  other  emotions 
than  those  of  respect  and  awe;  but  the  mild 
and  gentle  spirit  of  her  father  took  in  her  heart 
a  mother's  place,  and  she  clung  to  him  with 
the  most  ardent  affection. 

When  she  was  but  ten  years  of  age,  her  fa- 
ther was  one  day  going  to  Inspruck  upon  some 
business.  The  royal  cavalcade  was  drawn  up 
in  the  court-yard  of  the  palace.  The  emperor 
had  entered  his  carriage,  surrounded  by  his  ret- 
inue, and  was  just  on  the  point  of  leaving,  when 
he  ordered  the  postillions  to  delay,  and  request- 
ed an  attendant  to  bring  to  him  his  little  daugh- 
ter Maria  Antoinette.  The  blooming  child  was 
brought  from  the  nursery,  with  her  flaxen  hair 
in  ringlets  clustered  around  her  shoulders,  and 
presented  to  her  father.  As  she  entwined  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  clung  to  his  embrace, 
he  pressed  her  most  tenderly  to  his  bosom,  say- 
ing, "  Adieu  my  dear  little  daughter.  Father 
wished  once  more  to  press  you  to  his  heart" 


34  MA&IA  ANTOINETTE.          [1755. 

Mute  Antotastte'i  grtot  Mull  ThartM  M  a  mothor 

The  emperor  and  his  child*  never  met  again. 
At  Inspruck  Francis  was  taken  suddenly  ill, 
and,  after  a  few  days'  sickness,  died.  The  griei 
of  Maria  Antoinette  knew  no  bounds.  But  the 
tears  of  childhood  soon  dried  up.  The  parting 
scene,  however,  produced  an  impression  upon 
Maria  which  was  never  effaced,  and  she  ever 
spoke  of  her  father  in  terms  of  the  warmest  af- 
fection. 

Maria  Theresa,  half  conscious  of  the  imper- 
fect manner  in  which  she  performed  her  mater- 
nal duties,  was  very  solicitous  to  have  it  under- 
stood that  she  did  not  neglect  her  children ;  that 
she  was  the  best  mother  in  the  world  as  well 
as  the  most  illustrious  sovereign.  When  any 
distinguished  stranger  from  the  other  courts  of 
Europe  visited  Vienna,  she  arranged  her  six- 
teen  children  around  the  dinner-table,  towering 
above  tUem  in  queenly  majesty,  and  endeavor- 
ed  to  convey  the  impression  that  they  were  tho 
especial  objects  of  her  motherly  care.  It  was 
art,  however,  the  generous  warmth  of  love,  but 
the  cold  sense  of  duty,  which  alone  regulated 
her  conduct  in  reference  to  them,  and  she  had 
probably  convinced  herself  that  she  discharged 
her  maternal  obligations  with  the  most  exem- 
plary fidelity. 


1765.]  PARENTAGE   AND  CHILDHOOD. 

Mode  of  education.  Patty 

The  family  physician  every  morning  visited 
each  one  of  the  children,  an,d  then  briefly  report- 
«d  to  the  empress  the  health  of  the  archdukes 
tnd  the  archduchesses.  This  report  fully  sat- 
jsfied  all  the  yearnings  of  maternal  love  in  the 
bosom  of  Maria  Theresa ;  though  she  still,  that 
she  might  not  fail  in  the  least  degree  in  moth- 
erly affection,  endeavored  to  see  them  with  her 
own  eyes,  and  to  speak  to  them  with  her  own 
lips,  as  often  as  once  in  a  week  or  ten  days. 
The  preceptors  and  governesses  of  the  royal 
household,  being  thus  left  very  much  to  them- 
selves, were  far  more  anxious  to  gratify  the  im- 
mediate wishes  of  the  children,  and  thus  to  se- 
cure their  love,  than  to  urge  them  to  efforts  for 
intellectual  improvement.  Maria  Antoinette, 
in  subsequent  life,  related  many  amusing  an- 
ecdotes illustrative  of  the  petty  artifices  by 
which  the  scrutiny  of  the  empress  was  eluded. 
The  copies  which  were  presented  to  the  queen 
in  evidence  of  the  progress  the  children  were 
making  in  hand-writing  were  all  traced  first 
in  pencil  by  the  governess.  The  children  then 
followed  with  the  pen  over  the  penciled  lines. 
Drawings  were  exhibited,  beautifully  executed, 
to  show  the  skill  Maria  Antoinette  had  attain* 
ad  in  that  delightful  accomplishment,  whiob 


26  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1765. 

Marim'«  proficiency  in  French.  She  forget*  her  natire  tonga* 

drawings  the  pencil  of  Maria  had  not  even 
touched.  She  was  also  taught  to  address  stran- 
gers of  distinction  in  short  Latin  phrases,  when 
she  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  one  sin- 
gle word  of  the  language.  Her  teacher  of  Ital- 
ian, the  Abbe  Metastasio,  was  the  only  one  who 
was  faithful  in  his  duties,  and  Maria  made  very 
great  proficiency  in  that  language.  French 
being  the  language  of  the  nursery,  Maria  nee- 
essarily  acquired  the  power  of  speaking  it  with 
great  fluency,  though  she  was  quite  unable  to 
write  it  correctly.  In  the  acquisition  of  French, 
her  own  mother  tongue,  the  German,  was  so  to- 
tally neglected,  that,  incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
she  actually  lost  the  power  either  of  speaking 
or  of  understanding  it.  In  after  years,  chagrin- 
ed at  such  unutterable  folly,  she  sat  down  with 
great  resolution  to  the  study  of  her  own  native 
tongue,  and  encountered  all  the  difficulties 
which  would  tax  the  patience  of-  any  foreigner 
in  the  attempt.  She  persevered  for  about  six 
weeks,  and  then  relinquished  the  enterprise  in 
despair.  The  young  princess  was  extremely 
fond  of  music,  and  yet  she  was  not  taught  to 
play  well  upon  any  instrument  This  became 
subsequently  a  source  of  great  mortification  to 
her,  for  she  was  ashamed  to  confess  her  igno- 


1765.]  PARENTAGE    AND   CHILDHOOD.      27 

M*rU'«  ta«te  for  music.  Her  Ignorac*  of  genar&l  literature,  et* 

ranee  of  an  accomplishment  deemed,  in  the 
oourta  of  Europe,  80  essential  to  a  polished  ed- 
acation,  and  yet  she  dared  not  sit  down  to  any 
instrument  in  the  presence  of  others.  WL^n 
she  first  arrived  at  Versailles  as  the  bride  of 
the  heir  to  the  throne  of  France,  she  was  so 
deeply  mortified  at  this  defect  in  her  education, 
that  she  immediately  employed  a  teacher  to 
give  her  lessons  secretly  for  three  months.  Dur- 
ing this  time  she  applied  herself  to  her  task  with 
the  utmost  assiduity,  and  at  the  end  of  the  time 
gave  surprising  proof  of  the  skill  she  had  so 
rapidly  attained.  Upon  all  the  subjects  of  his- 
tory, science,  and  general  literature,  the  prin- 
cess was  left  entirely  uninformed.  The  activ- 
ity and  energy  of  her  mind  only  led  her  the 
more  poignantly  to  feel  the  mortification  to 
which  this  ignorance  often  exposed  her.  When 
surrounded  by  the  splendors  of  royalty,  she  fre 
quently  retired  to  weep  over  deficiencies  which 
it  was  too  late  to  repair.  The  wits  of  Paris 
seized  upon  these  occasional  developments  of 
the  want  of  mental  culture  as  the  indication  of 
a  weak  mind,  and  the  daughter  of  Maria  The- 
resa, the  descendant  of  the  Ceesars,  was  the  butt, 
in  saloon  and  cafe,  of  nerriment  and  song.  Ma- 
ria was  beautiful  and  graceful,  and  winning  in 


28  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1768 

The  F  reach  teacher*.  Their  chanwtet 

all  her  ways.  But  this  imperfect  education, 
exposing  her  to  contempt  and  ridicule  in  the 
society  of  intellectual  men  and  women,  was  not 
among  the  unimportant  elements  which  con- 
ducted to  her  own  ruin,  to  the  overthrow  of  the 
French  throne,  and  to  that  deluge  of  blood  which 
for  many  years  rolled  its  billows  incarnadine 
over  Europe. 

Maria  Theresa  had  sent  to  Paris  for  two  teach- 
ers of  French  to  instruct  her  daughter  in  the 
literature  of  that  country  over  which  she  was 
destined  to  reign.  From  that  pleasure-loving 
metropolis  two  play  actors  were  sent  to  take 
charge  of  her  education,  one  of  whom  was  a 
man  of  notoriously  dissolute  character.  As  the 
connection  between  Maria  Antoinette  and  Lou- 
is, the  heir  apparent  to  the  throne  of  France,  was 
already  contemplated,  some  solicitude  was  felt 
by  members  of  the  court  of  Versailles  in  refer- 
ence to  the  impropriety  of  this  selection,  and 
the  French  embassador  at  Vienna  was  request- 
ed to  urge  the  empress  to  dismiss  the  obnoxious 
teachers,  and  rn  ake  a  different  choice.  She  im- 
mediately complied  with  the  request,  and  sent 
to  the  Duke  de  Choiseul,  the  minister  of  state 
of  Louis  XV.,  to  send  a  preceptor  such  as  would 
be  acceptable  to  tK;  court  of  Versailles  After 


JL76te.    PARENTAGE    AND  CHILDHOOD.     29 

Thelbbtde  Vennoad.  He  «h»mefully  abiuai  hi*  trurt. 

no  little  difficulty  in  Ending  one  in  whom  all 
parties  could  unite,  the  Abbe  de  Vermond  was 
selected,  a  vain,  ambitious,  weak-minded  man, 
who,  by  the  most  studied  artifice,  insinuated 
himself  into  the  good  graces  of  Maria  Theresa, 
and  gained  a  great  but  pernicious  influence 
over  the  mind  of  his  youthful  pupil.  The  cab- 
inets of  France  and  Austria  having  decided  the 
question  that  Maria  Antoinette  was  to  be  the 
bride  of  Louis,  who  was  soon  to  ascend  the 
throne  of  France,  the  Abbe  de  Vermond,  proud 
of  his  position  as  the  intellectual  and  moral 
guide  of  the  destined  Queen  of  France,  shame- 
rally  abused  his  trust,  and  sought  only  to  ob- 
tain an  abiding  influence,  which  he  might  use 
for  the  promotion  of  his  own  ambition.  H« 
carefully  kept  her  in  ignorance,  to  render  him- 
self more  necessary  to  her ;  and  he  was  never 
unwilling  to  involve  her  in  difficulties,  that  she 
might  be  under  the  necessity  of  appealing  to  him 
for  extrication. 

Instead  of  endeavoring  to  prepare  her  for  the 
situation  she  was  destined  to  fill,  it  seemed  to 
be  his  aim  to  train  her  to  such  habits  of  thought 
and  feeling  as  would  totally  incapacitate  her  to 
be  happy,  or  to  acquire  an  influence  over  the 
gay  but  ceremony-loving  assemblages  of  the 


30  MARIA  ANTOINETTE 

Etiquette  of  the  French  court  Etiquette  of  the  Austrian  court 

Tuileries,  Versailles,  and  St.  Cloud.  At  this 
time,  the  fashion  of  the  French  court  led  to  ex- 
treme  attention  to  all  the  punctilios  of  etiquette. 
Every  word,  every  gesture,  was  regulated  by 
inflexible  rule.  E  very  garment  worn,  and  every 
act  of  life,  was  regulated  by  the  requisitions  of 
the  code  ceremonial.  Virtue  was  concealed  and 
vice  garnished  by  the  inflexible  observance  of 
stately  forms.  An  infringement  of  the  laws  of 
etiquette  was  deemed  a  far  greater  crime  than 
the  most  serious  violation  of  the  laws  of  morality. 
In  the  court  of  Vienna,  on  the  other  hand,  fash- 
ion ran  to  just  the  other  extreme.  It  was  fash- 
ionable to  despise  fashion.  It  was  etiquettu  to 
pay  no  regard  to  etiquette.  The  haughty  Aus- 
trian noble  prided  himself  in  dressing  as  ho 
pleased,  and  looked  with  contempt  upon  the 
studied  attitudes  and  foppish  attire  of  the 
French.  The  Parisian  courtier,  on  the  other 
hand,  rejoicing  in  his  ruffles,  and  ribbons,  and 
practiced  movements,  despised  the  boorish  man* 
ners,  as  he  deemed  them,  of  the  Austrian. 

The  Abbe  de  Vermond,  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  the  Austrian  court,  did  all  in  his  power  to 
inspire  Maria  Antoinette  with  contempt  of  Pa- 
risian manners.  He  zealously  conformed  to  the 
customs  prevailing  in  Vienna,  and,  like  all  now 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD.     31 

I'recepts  of  the  teacher.  Character  of  Maria  Antoinette 

c(  >iiverts,to  pro  vethesincerity  of  hiscon  version, 
went  far  in  advance  of  his  sect  in  intemperate 
zeal.  Maria  Antoinette  was  but  a  child,  mirth- 
ful, beautiful,  open  hearted,  and,  like  all  other 
children,  loving  freedom  from  restraint.  Her 
preceptor  ridiculed  incessantly,  mercilessly,  the 
manners  of  the  French  court,  where  she  was 
soon  to  reign  as  queen,  and  influenced  her  to 
despise  that  salutary  regard  to  appearances  so 
essential  in  all  refined  life.  Under  this  tutelage, 
Maria  became  as  natural,  unguarded,  and  free 
as  a  mountain  maid.  She  smiled  or  wept,  as 
the  mood  was  upon  her.  She  was  cordial  to- 
ward those  she  loved,  and  distant  and  reserved 
toward  those  she  despised.  She  cared  not  to 
repress  her  emotions  of  sadness  or  mirthf  ulness 
as  occasions  arose  to  excite  them.  She  was 
conscientious,  and  mi  willing  to  do  that  which 
she  thought  to  be  wrong,  and  still  she  was  im- 
prudent, and  troubled  not  herself  with  the  in- 
terpretation which  others  might  put  upon  her 
conduct.  She  prjded  herself  a  little  upon  her 
independence  and  recklessness  of  the  opinions 
of  others,  and  thus  she  was  ever  incurring  un- 
deserved censure,  and  becoming  involved  in  un- 
merited difficulties.  She  was,  in  heart,  truly  a 
noble  girl.  Her  faults  were  the  excesses  of  a 


32  MARIA   ANTOINETTE          11769 

Maria  a  noble  girt.  Her  rlrtne*  and  tor  fadta. 

generous  and  magnanimous  spirit.  Though  she 
inherited  much  of  the  imperial  energy  of  her 
mother,  it  was  tempered  and  adorned  with  the 
mildness  and  affectionateness  of  her  father.  Her 
education  had  necessarily  tended  to  induce  her 
to  look  down  with  aristocratic  pride  upon  those 
beneath  her  in  rank  in  life,  and  to  dream  that 
the  world  and  all  it  inherits  was  intended  for 
the  exclusive  benefit  of  kings  and  queens.  Still, 
tiie  natural  goodness  of  her  heart  ever  led  her 
to  acts  of  kindness  and  generosity.  She  thus 
won  the  love,  almost  without  seeking  it,  of  all 
who  knew  her  well.  Her  faults  were  the  una- 
voidable effect  of  her  birth,  her  education,  and 
all  those  nameless  but  untoward  influences 
which  surrounded  her  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  Her  virtues  were  all  her  own,  the  iii* 
st motive  emotions  of  a  frank,  confiding,  and 
magnanimous  spirit. 

The  childhood  of  Maria  Antoinette  was  prob- 
ably, on  the  whole,  as  happy  as  often  falls  to 
the  lot  of  humanity.  As  she  had  never  known 
a  mother's  love,  she  never  felt  its  loss.  There 
are  few  more  enchanting  abodes  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe  than  the  pleasure  palaces  of 
the  Austrian  kings.  Forest  and  grove,  garden 
and  wild,  rivulet  and  lake,  combine  all  their 


1769.]  PARENTAGE   AND  CHILDHOOD.      33 

Mace  of  Schoenbrun.  The  «cenc«  of  Maria's  childhood 

sharms  to  lend  fascination  to  those  haunts  ol 
regal  festivity.  In  the  palace  of  Schoenbrun, 
and  in  the  imbowered  gardens  which  surround 
that  world-renowned  habitation  of  princely 
grandeur,  Maria  passed  many  of  the  years  of 
her  childhood.  Now  she  trod  the  graveled  walk, 
pursuing  the  butterfly,  and  gathering  the  flow- 
era,  with  brothers  and  sisters  joining  in  the  rec- 
reation. Now  the  feet  of  her  pony  scattered 
the  pebbles  of  the  path,  as  the  little  troop  of 
equestrians  cantered  beneath  the  shade  of  ma- 
jestic elms.  Now  the  prancing  steeds  draw 
them  in  the  chariot,  through  the  infinitely  di- 
versified drives,  and  the  golden  leaves  of  au- 
tumn float  gracefully  through  the  still  air  upon 
their  heads.  The  boat,  with  damask  cushions 
and  silken  awning,  invites  them  upon  the  lake. 
The  strong  arms  of  the  rowers  bear  them  with 
fairy  motion  to  sandy  beach  and  jutting  head- 
land, to  island,  and  rivulet,  and  bay,  while  swans 
and  water-fowl,  of  every  variety  of  plumage, 
sport  before  them  and  around  them.  Such  were 
the  scenes  in  which  Maria  Antoinette  passed 
the  first  fourteen  years  of  her  life.  Every  want 
which  wealth  could  supply  was  gratified 
"What  a  destiny!"  exclaimed  a  Frenchman, 
a*  he  looked  upon  one  similarly  situated,  "what 


84  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          |1769 

Personal  appearance  of  Maria.  Description  of  LamarttnA 

a  destiny  !  young,  rich,  beautiful,  and  an  arch- 
duchess !     Ma  foi !  quel  destine  !" 

The  personal  appearance  of  Maria  Antoi- 
nette, as  she  bloomed  into  womanhood,  is  thus 
described  by  Lamartine.  "Her  beauty  daz- 
zled the  whole  kingdom.  She  was  of  a  tall, 
graceful  figure,  a  true  daughter  of  the  Tyrol. 
The  natural  majesty  of  her  carriage  destroyed 
none  of  the  graces  of  her  movements ;  her  neck, 
rising  elegantly  and  distinctly  from  her  shoul- 
ders, gave  expression  to  every  attitude.  The 
woman  was  perceptible  beneath  the  queen,  the 
tenderness  of  heart  was  not  lost  in  the  elevation 
of  her  destiny.  Her  light  brown  hair  was  long 
and  silky ;  her  forehead,  high  and  rather  pro- 
jecting, was  united  to  her  temples  by  those  fine 
curves  which  give  so  much  delicacy  and  ex- 
pression to  that  seat  of  thought,  or  the  soul  in 
woman ;  her  eyes,  of  that  clear  blue  which  re- 
call the  skies  of  the  north  or  the  waters  of  the 
Danube  ;  an  aquiline  nose,  the  nostrils  open  and 
blightly  projecting,  where  emotions  palpitate 
and  courage  is  evidenced ;  a  large  mouth,  Aus- 
trian lips,  that  is,  projecting  and  well  denned ; 
an  oval  countenance,  animated,  varying,  impas- 
sioned, and  the  ensemble  of  these  features,  re- 
plete with  that  expression,  impossible  to  de- 


1770.]  PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD. 


Marla'i  betrothal. 


scribe,  which  emanates  from  the  look,  the 
shades,  the  reflections  of  the  face,  which  en- 
compasses it  with  an  iris  like  that  of  the  warm 
and  tinted  vapor,  which  bathes  objects  in  full 
sunlight  —  the  extreme  loveliness  which  the  ideal 
conveys,  and  which,  by  giving  it  life,  increases 
its  attraction.  With  all  these  charms,  a  soul 
yearning  to  attach  itself,  a  heart  easily  moved, 
but  yet  earnest  in  desire  to  fix  itself;  a  pensive 
and  intelligent  smile,  with  nothing  of  vacuity 
in  it,  because  it  felt  itself  worthy  of  friendship*. 
Such  was  Maria  Antoinette  as  a  woman." 

When  but  fourteen  years  of  age  she  was  af- 
fianced as  the  bride  of  young  Louis,  the  grand- 
son  of  Louis  XV.,  and  heir  apparent  to  the 
throne  of  France.  Neither  of  the  youthful 
couple  had  ever  seen  each  other,  and  neither  of 
them  ha  i  any  thing  to  do  in  forming  the  con- 
nection. It  was  deemed  expedient  by  the  cab- 
inets of  Versailles  and  Vienna  that  the  two 
should  be  united,  in  order  to  promote  friendly 
alliance  between  France  and  Austria.  Maria 
Aptoinette  had  never  dreamed  even  of  question- 
ing any  of  her  mother's  arrangements,  and  con- 
sequently she  had  no  temptation  to  consider 
whether  »he  liked  or  disliked  the  plan.  She 
bad  been  trained  to  the  most  unhesitating  sub- 


36  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1770 

Maria's  feelldgt  on  tearing  Schoenbrun.  Her  lore  for  her  horn* 

mission  to  maternal  authority.  The  childish 
heart  of  the  mirth-loving  princess  was  doubt- 
less dazzled  with  the  anticipations  of  the  splen- 
dors which  awaited  her  at  Versailles  and  St 
Cloud.  But  when  she  bade  adieu  to  the  gar- 
dens of  Schoenbrun,  and  left  the  scenes  of  her 
childhood,  she  entered  upon  one  of  the  wildest 
careers  of  terror  and  of  suffering  which  mortal 
footsteps  have  ever  trod.  The  parting  from  her 
mother  gave  her  no  especial  pain,  for  she  had 
ever  looked  up  to  her  as  to  a  superior  being,  to 
whom  she  was  bound  to  render  homage  and 
obedience,  rather  than  as  to  a  mother  around 
whom  the  affections  of  her  heart  were  entwined. 
But  she  loved  her  brothers  and  sisters  most  ten- 
derly. She  was  extremely  attached  to  the  hap- 
py home  where  her  childish  heart  had  basked 
in  all  childish  pleasures,  and  many  were  the 
tears  she  shed  when  she  looked  back  from  the 
eminences  which  surround  VieLna  upon  those 
haunts  to  which  she  was  destined  never  again 
to  return. 


1770.]  BRIDAL  DAY*.  37 

UvteXV. 


CHAPTER   II. 
BRIDAL  DAYS. 

7  HEN  Maria  Antoinette  was  fifteen  yeart 
of  age,  a  light-hearted,  blooming,  beauti- 
ful girl,  hardly  yet  emerging  from  the  period 
of  childhood,  all  Austria,  indeed  all  Europe, 
was  interested  in  the  preparations  for  her  nup- 
tials with  the  destined  King  of  France.  Louis 
XV.  still  sat  upon  the  throne  of  Charlemagne 
His  eldest  son  had  died  about  ten  years  before, 
leaving  a  little  boy,  some  twelve  years  of  age, 
to  inherit  the  crown  his  father  had  lost  by  death. 
The  young  Louis,  grandchild  of  the  reigning 
king,  was  mild,  inoffensive,  and  bashful,  with 
but  little  energy  of  mind,  with  no  ardor  of  feel- 
ing, and  singularly  destitute  of  all  passions.  He 
was  perfectly  exemplary  in  his  conduct,  per- 
haps not  so  much  from  inherent  strength  of 
principle  as  from  possessing  that  peculiarity  of 
temperament,  cold  and  phlegmatic,  which  feelf 
not  the  power  of  temptation.  He  submitted 
passively  to  the  arrangements  for  his  marriage, 
never  manifesting  the  slightest  emotion  of  plea*. 


88  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1770 

Madame  da  Barrl.  Her  dissolute  character 

ure  or  repugnance  in  view  of  his  approaching 
alliance  with  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  fas- 
cinating princesses  of  Europe.  Louis  was  en- 
tirely insensible  to  all  the  charms  of  female 
beauty,  and  seemed  incapable  of  feeling  the 
emotion  of  love. 

Louis  XV.,  a  pleasure-loving,  dissolute  man, 
had  surrounded  his  throne  with  all  the  attrac- 
tions of  fashionable  indulgence  and  dissipation. 
There  was  one  woman  in  his  court,  Madame 
du  Barri,  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  profligacy, 
who  had  acquired  an  entire  ascendency  over  the 
mind  of  the  king.  The  disreputable  connection 
existing  between  her  and  the  monarch  exclud- 
ed her  from  respect,  and  yet  the  king  loaded  her 
with  honors,  received  her  at  his  table,  and  forced 
her  society  upon  all  the  inmates  of  the  palace. 
The  court  was  full  of  jealousies  and  bickerings ; 
and  while  one  party  were  disposed  to  welcome 
Maria  Antoinette,  hoping  that  she  would  es- 
pouse and  strengthen  their  cause,  the  other  par- 
ty looked  upon  her  with  suspicion  and  hostility, 
and  prepared  to  meet  her  with  all  the  weaponi 
of  annoyance. 

Neither  morals  nor  religion  were  then  of  any 
repute  in  the  court  of  France.  Vice  did  not 
even  aflect  concealment.  The  children  of  Louis 


1770.]  BRIDAL  DAYS.  39 

CUVtmo  of  Louis  XV.  Anecdote  of  Madame  du  Barrt 

XV.  were  educated,  or  rather  not  educated,  in 
a  nunnery.  The  Princess  Louisa,  when  twelve 
years  of  age,  knew  not  the  letters  of  her  alpha- 
bet. When  the  children  did  wrong,  the  sacred 
sisters  sent  them,  for  penance,  into  the  dark, 
damp,  and  gloomy  sepulcher  of  the  convent, 
where  the  remains  of  the  departed  nuns  were 
moldering  to  decay.  Here  the  timid  and  su- 
perstitious girls,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  were 
sent  alone,  to  make  expiation  for  some  childish 
offense.  The  little  Princess  Victoire,  who  was 
of  a  very  nervous  temperament,  was  thrown 
into  convulsions  by  this  harsh  treatment,  and 
the  injury  to  her  nervous  system  was  so  irrep- 
arable, that  during  her  whole  life  she  was  ex- 
posed to  periodical  paroxysms  of  panic  terror. 

One  day  the  king,  when  sitting  with  Ma- 
dame du  Barri,  received  a  package  of  letters. 
The  petted  favorite,  suspecting  that  one  of  them 
was  from  an  enemy  of  hers,  snatched  the  pack- 
et from  the  king's  hand.  As  he  endeavored  to 
regain  it,  she  resisted,  and  ran  two  or  three 
times  around  the  table,  which  was  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  room,  eagerly  pursued  by  the  irrita- 
ted monarch.  At  length,  in  the  excitement  of 
this  most  strange  conflict,  she  threw  the  letters 
into  the  glowing  fire  of  the  prate,  where  the' 


40  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1770 

Madame  da  Burl's  beauty.  Her  political  inftanna* 

were  all  consumed.  The  king,  enragod  beyond 
endurance,  seized  her  by  the  shoulders,  and 
thrust  her  violently  out  of  the  room.  After  a 
few  hours,  however,  th*»  weak-minded  monarch 
called  upon  her.  The  countess,,  trembling  in 
view  of  her  dismissal,  with  its  dreadful  conse- 
quences of  disgrace  and  beggary,  threw  herself 
at  his  feet,  bathed  in  tears,  and  they  were  rec- 
onciled. 

The  remaining  history  of  this  celebrated  wom- 
an is  so  remarkable  that  we  can  not  refrain  from 
briefly  recording  it.  Her  marvelous  beauty  had 
inflamed  the  passions  of  the  king,  and  she  had 
obtained  so  entire  an  ascendency  over  his  mind 
that  she  was  literally  the  monarch  of  France. 
The  treasures  of  the  empire  were  emptied  into 
her  lap.  Notwithstanding  the  stigma  attached 
to  her  position,  the  nation,  accustomed  to  thia 
laxity  of  morals,  submitted  to  the  yoke.  As 
the  idol  of  the  king,  and  the  dispenser  of  hon- 
ors and  powers,  the  clergy,  the  nobility,  the 
philosophers,  all  did  her  homage.  She  was  still 
youag,  and  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  ravishing 
beauty,  when  the  king  died.  For  the  sake  of 
appearances,* she  retired  for  a  few  months  into 
a  nunnery.  Soon,  however,  she  emerged  again 
tato  the  gay  world  Her  limitless  power  ovei 


1770.]  BRIDAL  DAYS  41 

Madame  du  Karri's  pavilion.  The  Duke  de  Brissac 

the  voluptuous  old  monarch  had  enabled  her  to 
amass  an  enormous  fortune.  With  this  she 
reared  and  embellished  for  herself  a  magnifi- 
cent retreat,  adorned  with  more  than  regal 
splendor,  in  the  vicinity  of  Paris — the  Pavilion 
de  Luciennes,  on  the  borders  of  the  forest  of 
St.  Germain.  The  old  Duke  de  Brissac,  who 
had  long  been  an  admirer  of  her  charms,  here 
lived  with  her  in  unsanctified  union.  Almost 
universal  corruption  at  that  time  pervaded  the 
nobility  of  France — one  of  the  exciting  causes, 
of  the  Revolution.  Though  excluded  from  ap- 
pearing at  the  court  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Maria 
Antoinette,hermagnificentsaloonswerecrowd- 
ed  by  those  ever  ready  to  worship  at  the  shrine 
of  wealth,  and  rank,  and  power.  But,  as  the 
stormy  days  of  the  Revolution  shed  their  gloom 
over  France,  and  an  infuriated  populace  were 
wrecking  their  vengeance  upon  the  throne  and 
the  nobles,  Madame  du  Barri,  terrified  by  the 
scenes  of  violence  daily  occurring,  prepared  to 
fly  from  France.  She  invested  enormous  funds 
in  England,  and  one  dark  night  went  out  with 
the  Duke  de  Brissac  alone,  and,  by  the  dim 
light  of  a  lantern,  they  dug  a  hole  under  the 
foot  of  a  tree  in  the  park,  and  buried  much  of 
the  treasure  which  she  was  unable  to  take  away 


42  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.'       [1770 

KadaiBA  do  Barrl'i  flight  She  It  betrayed 

with  her  In  disguise,  she  reached  the  coast  of 
France,  and  escaped  across  the  Channel  to  En 
gland.  Here  she  devoted  her  immense  revenu* 
to  the  relief  of  the  emigrants  who  were  every 
day  flying  in  dismay  from  the  horrors  with 
which  they  were  surrounded.  The  Duke  de 
Brissao,  who  was  commander  of  the  constitu 
tional  guard  of  the  king,  appeared  at  Versailles 
in  an  hour  of  great  excitement.  The  mob  at 
tacked  him.  He  was  instantly  assassinated 
His  head,  covered  with  the  white  locks  of  age 
was  cut  off,  and  planted  upon  one  of  the  pali 
sades  of  the  palace  gates,  a  fearful  warning  t* 
ill  who  were  suspected  of  advocating  the  oaus« 
of  the  king. 

And  now  no  one  knew  of  the  buried  treasure 
but  Madame  du  Barri  herself.  She,  anxious  to 
regain  them,  ventured,  in  disguise,  to  return  to 
France  to  disinter  her  diamonds,  and  take  them 
with  her  to  England.  A  young  negro  servant, 
whom  she  had  pampered  with  every  indulgence, 
*nd  had  caressed  with  the  fondness  with  which 
a  mother  fondles  her  child,  whom  she  had  caus- 
ed to  be  painted  by  her  side  in  her  portraits,  saw 
his  mistress  and  betrayed  her.  She  was  imme- 
diately seized  by  the  mob,  and  dragged  before 
thft  revolutionary  tribunal  of  Lucieunea.  She 


1793]  BRIDAL   DAYS. 

C^demnatlon  of  Mad«ma  du  Barri. Her  «igul«h  «nd  d««pdr 

was  condemned  as  a  Royalist,  and  was  hurried 
along  in  the  cart  of  the  condemned,  amid  the 
execrations  and  jeers  of  the  delirious  mob,  to 
the  guillotine.     Her  long  hair  was  shorn,  that 
the  action  of  the  knife  might  be  unimpeded ; 
but  the  clustering  ringlets,  in  beautiful  profu- 
sion, fell  over  her  brow  and  temples,  and  veiled 
her  voluptuous  features  and  bare  bosom,  from 
which  the  executioner  had  torn  the  veil     The 
veils  of  the  infuriated  and  deriding  populace  fill- 
ed  the  air,  as  they  danced  exultingly  around  the 
aristocratic  courtesan.     But  the  shrieks  of  the 
unhappy  victim  pierced  shrilly  through  them 
all.     She  was  frantic  with  terror.     Her  whole 
soul  was  unnerved,  and  not  one  emotion  of  for- 
titude remained  to  sustain  the  woman  of  pleas- 
ure  through  her  dreadful  doom     With  floods 
of  tears,  and  gestures  of  despair,  and  beseech- 
ing, heart-rending   cries,   she   incessantly  ex 
claimed,  «  Life— life—life !     O  save  me !  save 
me !"     The  mob  jeered,  and  derided,  and  insult- 
ed her  in  every  conceivable  way.     They  made 
themselves  merry  with  her  anguish  and  terror. 
They  shouted  witticisms  ;n  her  ear  respecting 
the  pillow  of  the  guilloti^  upon  which  she  wa« 
to  repose  her  head.     Struggling  and  shrieking, 
»he  was  bound  to  the  plank.     Suddenly  h«i 


44  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [179& 

execution  of  Madame  du  BarrL  Letter  tram  Maria  There** 

voice  was  hushed.  The  dissevered  head,  drip* 
ping  with  blood,  fell  into  the  basket,  and  hei 
soul  was  in  eternity.  Poor  woman  !  It  is  easy 
k;  condemn.  It  is  better  for  the  heart  to  pity. 
Endowed  with  almost  celestial  beauty,  living  in 
a  corrupt  age,  and  lured,  when  a  child,  by  a 
monarch's  love,  she  fell.  It  is  well  to  weep 
over  her  sad  fate,  and  to  remember  the  prayer, 
'*  Lead  us  not  into  temptation." 

Such  were  the  characters  and  such  the  state 
of  morals  of  the  court  into  which  this  beautiful 
and  artless  princess,  Maria  Antoinette,  but  fif- 
teen years  of  age,  was  to  be  introduced.  As 
she  left  the  palaces  of  Vienna  to  encounter  the 
temptations  of  the  Tuileries  and  Versailles,  Ma- 
ria Theresa  wrote  the  following  characteristic 
letter  to  the  future  husband  of  her  daughter. 

"  Your  bride,  dear  dauphin,  is  separated  from 
me.  As  she  has  ever  been  my  delight,  so  will 
she  be  your  happiness.  For  this  purpose  have 
I  educated  her  ;  for  I  have  long  been  aware  that 
ehe  was  to  be  the  companion  of  your  life.  I 
have  enjoined  upon  her,  as  among  her  highest  du- 
ties, the  most  tender  attachment  to  your  person, 
the  greatest  attention  to  every  thing  that  can 
please  or  make  you  happy.  Above  all,  I  have 
•"eoommended  to  her  humility  toward  God,  be- 


1770.]  BRIDAL    DAY*.  45 

Departure  of  Maria  for  I'-iri».  Emotion*  of  the  populace 

cause  1  am  convinced  that  it  is  impossible  for 
as  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  the  subjects 
confided  to  us  without  love  to  Him  who  breaks 
the  scepters  and  crushes  the  thrones  of  king* 
according  to  his  will." 

The  great  mass  of  the  Austrian  population, 
hating  the  French,  with  whom  they  had  long 
been  at  var,  were  exceedingly  averse  to  this 
marriage.  As  the  train  of  royal  carriages  was 
drawn  up,  on  the  morning  of  her  departure,  to 
convey  the  bride  to  Paris,  an  immense  assem- 
blage of  the  populace  of  Vienna,  men,  women, 
and  children,  surrounded  the  cortege  with  weep- 
ing and  lamentation.  Loyalty  was  then  an 
emotion  existing  in  the  popular  mind  with  an 
intensity  which  now  can  hardly  be  conceived 
At  length,  in  the  excitement  of  their  feelings, 
to  save  the  beloved  princess  from  a  doom  which 
they  deemed  dreadful,  they  made  a  rush  toward 
the  carriages  to  cut  the  traces  and  thus  to  pre- 
vent the  departure.  The  guard  was  compelled 
to  interfere,  and  repel,  with  violence,  the  atfeo- 
tinnate  mob.  As  the  long  and  splendid  train, 
preceded  and  followed  by  squadrons  of  horse, 
disappeared  throagh  the  gate  of  the  city,  a  uni- 
versal feeling  of  sadness  oppressed  the  capital 
The  people  returned  to  their  homes  silent  and 


46  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         J1770 

Magnificent  p«TiHon.  Singular  cuitom 

dejected,  as  if  they  had  been  witnessing  the  ob- 
lexjuies  rather  than  the  nuptials  of  the  beloved 
princess 

The  gorgeous  cavalcade  proceeded  to  Kell,  on 
the  frontiers  of  Austria  and  France.  There  • 
magnificent  pavilion  had  oeen  erected,  consist 
ing  of  a  vast  saloon,  with  an  apartment  at  either 
end.  One  of  these  apartments  was  assigned  to 
the  lords  and  ladies  of  the  court  of  Vienna  ;  the 
other  was  appropriated  to  the  brilliant  train 
which  had  come  from  Paris  to  receive  the  bride. 
The  two  courts  vied  with  each  other  in  the  ex- 
hibition of  wealth  and  magnificence.  It  was  an 
established  law  of  French  etiquette,  always  ob- 
served on  such  occasions,  that  the  royal  bride 
should  receive  her  wedding  dress  from  France, 
and  should  retain  absolutely  nothing  belonging 
to  a  foreign  court.  The  princess  was,  conse- 
quently, in  the  pavilion  appropriated  to  the  Aus- 
trian suite,  unrobed  of  all  her  garments,  except- 
ing her  body  linen  and  stockings.  The  door  was 
then  thrown  open,  and  in  this  plight  the  beauti- 
ful and  blushing  child  advanced  into  the  saloon. 
The  French  ladies  rushed  to  meet  her.  Maria 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  Countess  de 
Noailles,  and  wept  convulsively.  The  French 
were  perfectly  enchanted  with  her  beauty ;  and 


1770.]  BRIDAL   DAYS.  49 

flrmnd  procession.  The  reception 

the  proud  position  of  her  nead  and  shoulders 
betrayed  to  their  eyes  the  daughter  of  the  Cae- 
sars. She  was  immediately  conducted  to  the 
apartment  appropriated  to  the  French  court. 
Here  the  few  remaining  articles  of  clothing 
were  removed  from  her  person,  and  she  was  re- 
dressed in  the  most  brilliant  attire  which  the 
wealth  of  the  French  monarchy  could  furnish. 

And  now,  charioted  in  splendor,  surrounded 
by  the  homage  of  lords  and  ladies,  accompanied 
by  all  the  pomp  of  civic  and  military  parade, 
and  enlivened  by  the  most  exultant  strains  of 
martial  bands,  Maria  was  conducted  toward 
Paris,  while  her  Austrian  friends  bade  her 
adieu  and  returned  to  Vienna.  The  horizon, 
by  night,  was  illumined  by  bonfires,  flaming 
npon  every  hill ;  the  church  bells  rang  their 
merriest  peals ;  cities  blazed  with  illumina- 
tions and  fire- works  ;  and  files  of  maidens  lined 
her  way,  singing  their  songs  of  welcome,  and 
carpeting  her  path  with  roses.  It  was  a  scene 
to  dazzle  the  most  firm  and  contemplative.  No 
dream  of  romance  could  have  been  more  bewil- 
dering to  the  ardent  and  romantic  princess,  just 
emerging  from  the  cloistered  seclusion  of  the 
palace  nursery. 

Ixraia,  then  a  young  man  about  twenty  yean 

11—4 


50  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [1770 

Young  l.uaia't  indifference.  The  marriBg* 

of  age,  came  from  Paris  with  his  grandfather, 
King  Louis  XV.,  and  a  splendid  retinue  of  cour- 
tiers, as  far  as  Compiegne,  to  meet  his  bride. 
Uninfluenced  by  any  emotions  of  tenderness, 
apparently  entirely  unconscious  of  all  those  mys- 
terious emotions  which  bind  loving  hearts,  he  sa- 
luted the  stranger  with  cold  and  distant  respect 
He  thought  not  of  wounding  her  feelings ;  he 
had  no  aversion  to  the  connection,  but  he  seemed 
not  even  to  think  of  any  more  intimacy  with 
Maria  than  with  any  other  lady  who  adorned  the 
court.  The  ardent  and  warm-hearted  princess 
was  deeply  hurt  at  this  indifference;  but  in- 
stinctive pride  forbade  its  manifestation,  except 
in  bosom  converse  to  a  few  confiding  friends. 

The  bride  and  her  passive  and  unimpassionod 
bridegroom  were  conducted  to  Versailles.  It 
was  the  16th  of  May,  1770,  when  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  performed,  with  all  the  splendor 
with  which  it  could  be  invested.  The  gorgeous 
palaces  of  Versailles  were  thronged  with  the  no- 
bility of  Europe,  and  filled  with  rejoicing.  Tb*» 
old  king  was  charmed  with  the  beauty  and  affa. 
bility  of  the  young  bride.  All  hearts  were  filled 
with  happiness,  except  those  of  the  newly-ma* 
ried  couple.  Louis  was  tranquil  and  contented 
He  was  neither  allured  nor  repelled  by  his  bride 


1770.1  BRIDAL  DAYS.  51 

ability  of  yo«ng  LoaU.  Aeclmmatlonj  of 


He  never  sought  her  society  alone,  and  ever  ap- 
proached her  with  the  same  distance  and  reserve 
with  which  he  would  approach  any  other  young 
lady  who  was  a  visitor  at  the  palace.  He  nevei 
intruded  upon  the  privacy  of  her  apartments, 
and  she  was  his  wife  but  in  name.  While  at 
France  was  filled  with  the  praises  of  her  beauty, 
and  all  eyes  were  enchanted  by  her  graceful  de- 
meanor, her  husband  alone  was  insensible  to 
her  charms.  After  a  few  days  spent  with  the 
rejoicing  court,  amid  the  bowers  and  fountains 
of  Versailles,  the  nuptial  party  departed  for 
Paris,  and  entered  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries, 
the  scene  of  future  sorrows  such  as  few  on  earth 
have  ever  experienced. 

As  Maria,  in  dazzling  beauty,  entered  Paris, 
the  whole  city  was  in  a  delirium  of  pleasure. 
Triumphal  arches  greeted  her  progress.  The 
acclamations  of  hundreds  of  thousands  filled  the 
air.  The  journals  exhausted  the  French  lan- 
guage in  extolling  her  loveliness.  Poets  sang 
her  charms,  and  painters  vied  with  each  other 
in  transferring  her  features  to  canvas.  Aa 
Maria  sat  in  the  dining  saloon  of  the  Tuileries 
at  the  marriage  entertainment,  the  shouts  of 
the  immense  assemblage  thronging  the  gardens 
rendered  it  necessary  for  her  to  pi-esent  herself 


6Ji  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1779. 

Maria  shows  herself  to  the  populace.  She  reectre*  their  homage. 

to  them  upon  the  balcony.  She  stepped  from 
the  window,  and  looked  out  upon  the  vast  sea 
of  heads  which  filled  the  garden  and  the  Place 
Louis  XV.  All  eyes  were  riveted  upon  her  as 
she  stood  before  the  throng  upon  the  balcony  in 
dazzling  beauty,  and  the  air  resounded  with  ap- 
plauses. She  exclaimed,  with  astonishment, 
"  What  a  concourse !"  "  Madame,"  said  the 
governor  of  Paris,  "  I  may  tell  you,  without  feat 
of  offending  the  dauphin,  that  they  are  so  many 
lovers."  The  heir  apparent  to  the  throne  of 
France  is  called  the  dauphin ;  and,  until  the 
death  of  Louis  XV.,  Louis  and  Maria  Antoinette 
were  called  the  dauphin  and  dauphiness-.  Louia 
seemed  neither  pleased  nor  displeased  with  the 
acclamations  and  homage  which  his  bride  re- 
ceived. His  singularly  passionless  natuie  lod 
him  to  retirement  and  his  books,  and  he  hardly 
heard  even  the  acclamations  with  which  Paris 
was  filled. 

A  rrangements  had  beer  made  for  a  very  brill- 
iant  display  of  fire-works,  in  celebration  of  the 
marriage,  at  the  Place  Louis  XV.  The  hun- 
tireds  of  thousands  of  that  pleasure- loving  me- 
tropolis thronged  the  Place  and  all  its  avenues. 
The  dense  mass  was  wedged  as  compactly  as  it 
was  possible  to  crowd  human  beings  together 


1770.)  BRIDAL  DAYS.  53 

The  fire- work*.  Awfnl  conflaip-»tioa 

Not  a  spot  of  ground  was  left  vacant  upon  which 
a  human  foot  could  be  planted.  Every  house 
top,  every  balcony,  every  embrasure  of  a  window 
swarmed  with  the  multitude.  Long  lines  of 
omnibuses,  coaches,  and  carriages  of  every  de- 
scription, filled  with  groups  of  young  and  old, 
were  intermingled  with  thfe  luntless  multitude 
— men  and  horses  so  crowded  into  contact  that 
neither  could  move.  It  was  an  impervious  ocean 
of  throbbing  life.  In  the  center  of  this  Place, 
the  pride  of  Paris,  the  scene  of  its  most  triumph- 
ant festivities  and  its  most  unutterable  woe, 
vast  scaffolds  had  been  reared,  and  they  were 
burdened  with  fire- works,  intended  to  surpass  in 
brilliancy  and  sublimity  any  spectacle  of  the 
kind  earth  had  ever  before  witnessed.  Sud- 
denly a  bright  flame  was  seen,  a  shriek  was 
heard,  and  the  whole  scaffolding,  by  some  acci- 
dental spark,  was  enveloped  in  a  sheet  of  fire. 
Then  ensued  such  a  scene  as  no  pen  can  de- 
scribe and  no  imagination  paint.  The  awful 
conflagration  converted  all  the  ministers  of 
pleasure  into  messengers  of  death.  Thousand* 
of  rockets  filled  the  air,  and,  with  almost  the  ve- 
locity of  lightning,  pierced  their  way  through 
the  shrieking,  struggling,  terror-stricken  crowd. 
Fiery  serpents,  more  terrible,  more  deadly  than 


64  MARIA  ANTOINKTTB          [1770. 

Scene  of  horror.  Consternation  of  Maria 


the  fabled  dragons  of  old,  hissed  through  the 
air,  clung  to  the  dresses  of  the  ladies,  enveloping 
them  in  flames,  and  mercilessly  burning  the 
flesh  to  the  bone.  Mines  exploded  under  the 
hoofs  of  the  horses,  scattering  destruction  and 
death  on  every  side.  Every  species  of  fire  was 
rained  down,  a  horrible  tempest,  upon  the  im- 
movable mass.  Shrieks  from  the  wounded  and 
the  dying  filled  the  air ;  and  the  mighty  multi- 
tude swayed  to  and  fro,  in  Herculean,  yet  una- 
vailing efforts  to  escape.  The  horses,  maddened 
with  terror,  reared  and  plunged,  crushing  indis- 
criminately beneath  their  tread  the  limbs  of  the 
fallen.  The  young  bride,  in  her  carriage,  with  a 
brilliant  retinue,  and  eager  to  witness  the  splen- 
dor of  the  anticipated  fete,  had  just  approached 
the  Place,  when  she  was  struck  with  consterna- 
tion at  the  shrieks  of  death  which  filled  the  air, 
and  at  the  scene  of  tumult  and  terror  which 
surrounded  her.  The  horses  were  immediately 
turned,  and  driven  back  again  with  the  utmost 
ipeed  to  the  palace.  But  the  awful  cries  of  tha 
lying  followed  her ;  and  it  was  long  ere  she 
oould  efface  from  her  distracted  imagination 
the  impression  of  that  hour  of  horror.  Fifty- 
three  persons  were  killed  outright  by  this  sad 
casualty,  and  more  than  three  hundred  were 


1770.)  BRIDAL  DAT*.  55 

Pre-ent.  from  Ixrai.  XV.  Mallee  of  M*d*oM  4a  Barri 

dangerously  wounded.  The  dauphin  and  dau- 
phiness  immediately  sent  their  whole  income 
for  the  year  to  the  unfortunate  relatives  of  those 
who  had  perished  on  that  disastrous  day. 

The  old  king  was  exceedingly  pleased  with 
the  beauty  and  fascinating  frankness  and  cordi- 
ality of  Maria.  He  made  her  many  magnificent 
presents,  and,  among  others,  with  a  magnificent 
collar  of  pearls,  the  smallest  of  which  was  nearly 
as  large  as  a  walnut,  which  had  been  brought 
into  France  by  Anne  of  Austria.  These  praises 
and  attentions  on  the  part  of  the  king  excited 
the  jealousy  of  the  petted  favorite,  Madame 
du  Barri.  She  consequently  became,  with  the 
party  under  her  influence,  the  relentless  and 
unprincipled  enemy  of  Maria.  She  lost  no 
opportunity  to  traduce  her  character.  She 
•pread  reports  every  where  that  Maria  hated 
the  French ;  that  she  was  an  Austrian  in 
heart;  that  her  frankness  and  freedom  from 
the  restraints  of  etiquette  were  the  result  of  an 
immoral  and  depraved  mind.  She  exaggerated 
her  extravagance,  and  accused  her,  by  whispert 
and  insinuations  spread  far  and  near,  of  the 
most  ignoble  crimes  of  which  woman  can  br 
guilty.  The  young  and  inexperienced  dauphin 
e«»  soon  found  herself  involved  in  mo«*  •mbar- 


56  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1770. 

Marim'i  difficulties  The  Counter  do  No«iU«« 

rassing  difficulties.  She  had  no  kind  friend  to 
council  her.  Louis  still  remained  cold,  distant, 
and  reserved.  Thus,  week  after  week,  month 
after  month,  year  after  year  passed  on,  and  for 
eight  years  Louis  never  approached  his  youthful 
spouse  with  any  manifestation  of  confidence  and 
affection  but  those  with  which  he  would  regard 
a  mother  or  a  sister.  Maria  was  a  wife  but  in 
name.  She  did  not  share  his  apartment  or  his 
couch.  Though  deeply  wounded  by  this  inex- 
plicable neglect,  she  seldom  spoke  of  it  even  to 
her  most  intimate  friends.  The  involuntary 
sigh,  and  the  tear  which  often  moistened  her 
cheek,  proclaimed  her  inward  sufferings. 

When  Maria  first  arrived  in  France,  the 
Countess  de  Noailles  was  assigned  to  her  as  her 
lady  of  honor.  She  was  somewhat  advanced  in 
life,  haughty  and  ceremonious,  a  perfect  mis- 
tress of  that  art  of  etiquette  so  rigidly  observed 
in  the  French  court.  Upon  her  devolved  the 
duty  of  instructing  the  dauphiness  in  all  the 
punctilios  of  form,  then  deemed  far  more  im- 
portant than  the  requisitions  of  morality.  The 
following  anecdote,  related  by  Madame  Cam- 
pan,  illustrates  the  ridiculous  excess  to  which 
these  points  of  etiquette  were  carried.  On« 
winter's  day,  it  happened  that  Maria  Antov 


1770.J  BRIDAL  DAYS.  67 

Uw»of«aquetta. 


nette,  who  was  entirely  disrobed  in  her  dress- 
ing-room, was  just  going  to  put  on  her  body 
linen.  Madame,  the  lady  in  attendance,  held  it 
ready  unfolded  for  her.  The  dame  d'honneur 
came  in.  As  she  was  of  superior  rank,  eti- 
quette required  that  she  should  enjoy  the  priv- 
ilege  of  presenting  the  robe.  She  hastily  slip- 
ped off  her  gloves,  took  the  garment,  and  at  that 
moment  a  rustling  was  heard  at  the  door.  It 
was  opened,  and  in  came  the  Duchess  d'Or- 
leans.  She  now  must  be  the  bearer  of  the  gar 
ment.  But  the  laws  of  etiquette  would  not  al- 
low the  dame  d'honneur  to  hand  the  linen  di- 
rectly to  the  Duchess  d'Orleans.  It  must  pass 
down  the  various  grades  of  rank  to  the  lowest, 
and  be  presented  by  her  to  the  highest.  The 
linen  was  consequently  passed  back  again  from 
one  to  another,  till  it  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  duchess.  She  was  just  on  the  point  of 
conveying  it  to  its  proper  destination,  when  sud- 
denly the  door  opened,  and  the  Countess  of 
I  rovenoe  entered.  Again  the  linen  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  till  it  reached  the  hands  of  the 
eountess.  She,  perceiving  the  uncomfortable 
position  of  Maria,  who  sat  shivering  with  cold, 
with  her  hands  crossed  upon  her  bosom,  with- 
out stopping  to  remove  her  gloves,  placed  th« 


58  MARIA  ANTCIRFTT*  [1770 

CoutoM  de  NoafflM'f  ideM  of  etiquette.  AH  uMwdote 

linen  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  danphiness.    She, 
however,  was  quite  unable  to  restrain  her  ira 
patience,  and  exclaimed,  "  How  disagreeable 
how  tiresome !" 

Another  anecdote  illustrates  the  character  of 
Madame  de  Noailles,  who  exerted  so  powerful 
an  influence  upon  the  destiny  of  Maria  Antoi 
nette.  She  was  a  woman  of  severe  manners, 
but  etiquette  was  the  very  atmosphere  she 
breathed ;  it  was  the  soul  of  her  existence.  The 
slightest  infringement  of  the  rules  of  etiquette 
annoyed  her  almost  beyond  endurance.  "One 
day,"  says  Madame  Campan,  "  I  unintention- 
ally threw  the  poor  lady  into  a  terrible  agony. 
The  queen  was  receiving,  I  know  not  whom — 
some  persons  just  presented,  I  believe.  The 
ladies  of  the  bed-chamber  were  behind  the  queen. 
I  was  near  the  throne,  with  the  two  ladies  on 
duty.  All  was  right;  at  least  I  thought  so. 
Suddenly  I  perceived  the  eyes  of  Madame  de 
Noailles  fixed  on  mine.  She  made  a  sign  with 
her  head,  and  then  raised  her  eyebrows  to  the 
top  of  her  forehead,  lowered  them,  raised  them 
again,  and  then  began  to  make  little  signs  with 
her  hand.  From  all  this  pantomime,  I  could 
easily  perceive  that  something  was  not  as  it 
should  be ;  and  as  I  looked  about  on  all  side* 


J770.]  BRIDAL   DAYS.  89 

Maria  t  wmHtnpt  for  etiquette.       The  Coonteat  4*  KoailUi  BlekBiuned. 

to  find  out  what  it  was,  the  agitation  of  the 
countess  kept  increasing.  Maria  Antoinette, 
who  perceived  all  this,  looked  at  me  with  a 
wnile.  I  found  means  to  approach  her,  and  she 
said  to  me,  in  a  whisper,  '  Let  down  your  lap- 
pets, or  the  countess  will  expire.'  All  this  bus- 
tle rose  from  two  unlucky  pins,  which  fastened 
up  my  lappets,  while  the  etiquette  of  costume 
said  lappets  hanging'  d&wn." 

One  can  easily  imagine  the  contempt  with 
which  Maria,  reared  in  the  freedom  of  the  Aus- 
trian court,  would  regard  these  punctilios.  She 
did  not  refrain  from  treating  them  with  good- 
natured  but  unsparing  ridicule,  and  thus  she 
often  deeply  offended  those  stiff  elderly  ladies, 
who  regarded  these  trifles,  which  they  had  been 
studying  all  their  lives,  with  almost  religious 
awe.  She  gave  Madame  de  Noailtas  the  nick- 
name of  Madame  Etiquette,  to  the  great  merri- 
ment of  some  of  the  courtiers  and  the  great  in- 
dignation of  others.  The  more  grave  and  state- 
ly matrons  were  greatly  shocked  by  these  in- 
'liscrstions  on  the  part  of  the  mirth-loving  queen 

On  one  occasion,  when  a  number  of  noble  la- 
dies were  presented  to  Maria,  the  ludicrous  ap- 
pearance of  the  venerable  dowagers,  with  their 
.little  black  bonnets  with  great  wings,  and  the 


JO  MARIA  ANTOIHKTTH.          [1770 

LndicrouB  tr*oe>  Rays  of  tb«  old  ladle* 

entire  of  their  grotesque  dross  and  evolutions, 
appealed  so  impressively  to  Maria's  sense  of  the 
ridiculous,  that  she,  with  the  utmost  difficulty, 
refrained  from  open  laughter.  But  when  a 
young  marchioness,  full  of  fun  and  frolic,  whose 
office  required  that  she  should  continue  stand- 
ing behind  the  queen,  being  tired  of  the  cere 
mony,  seated  herself  upon  the  tloor,  and,  con- 
cealed behind  the  fence  of  the  enormous  hoops 
of  the  attendant  ladies,  began  to  play  off  all  im- 
aginable pranks  with  the  ladies'  hoops,  and  with 
the  muscles  of  her  own  face,  the  contrast  be- 
tween these  childish  frolics  and  the  stately  dig- 
nity of  the  old  dowagers  so  disconcerted  the 
fun-loving  Maria,  that,  notwithstanding  all  her 
eilbrts  at  self-control,  she  could  not  conceal  an 
occasional  smile.  The  old  ladies  were  shock- 
ed and  enraged.  They  declared  that  she  had 
treated  them  with  derision,  that  she  had  no 
sense  of  decorum,  and  that  not  .^ne  of  them 
would  ever  attend  her  court  again.  The  next 
morning  a  song  appeared,  full  of  bitterness 
which  was  spread  through  Paris.  The  folio w 
ing  was  the  chorus : 

"  Little  queen !  you  most  not  be 
So  saacy  with  your  *wenty  yean 
Toor  ill-osed  courtiers  soon  will  M« 
Tuo  p&M  once  more  the  Uarrief*  " 


1775.]  BRIDAL   DAYI.  61 

BiblU  of  Maria  There**.  The  daophiMM  beoone*  npopulw, 

While  Madame  do  Noailles  was  thus  tortur- 
ing Maria  Antoinette  with  her  exactions,  the 
Abbe  de  Vermond,  on  the  contrary,  was  exert- 
ing  all  the  strong  influence  he  had  acquired  over 
her  mind  to  induce  her  to  despise  these  require- 
ments of  etiquette,  and  to  treat  them  with  open 
contempt.  Maria  Theresa,  in  the  spirit  of  in- 
dependence which  ever  characterizes  a  strong 
mind,  ordinarily  lived  like  any  other  lady,  at- 
tending energetically  to  her  duties  without  any 
ostentation.  She  would  ride  through  the  streets 
of  Vienna  unaccompanied  by  any  retinue  ;  and 
the  other  members  of  the  royal  family,  on  all 
ordinary  occasions,  dispensed  with  the  pomp  and 
splendors  of  royalty.  Maria  Antoinette's  edu- 
cation and  natural  disposition  led  her  ,to  adhere 
to  the  customs  o£  the  court  of  her  ancestors. 
Thus  was  she  incessantly  annoy ed  by  the  di- 
verse inlluences  crowding  upon  ner.  Follow, 
ing,  however,  tiie  bent  of  her  own  inclinations, 
»he  daily  made  herself  more  and  more  unpopu 

ar  with  the  haughty  dames  who  surrounded  her. 
It  was  a  very  great  annoyance  to  Maria  that 
ihe  was  compelled  to  dins  every  day  as  a  pub- 
'io  spectacle.  It  must  seem  almost  incredible 
to  an  American  reader  that  such  a  custom  could 

AVMT  hare  existed  in  Franoe.     The  arrangement 


62  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1775 

Dining  In  public.  How  It  wa»  done 

was  this.  The  different  members  of  the  royal 
faintly  dined  in  different  apartments :  the  king 
and  queen,  with  such  as  were  admitted  to  theii 
table,  in  one  room,  the  dauphin  and  dauphiness 
in  another,  and  other  members  of  tlm  royal  fam- 
ily in  another.  Portions  of  these  rooms  were 
railed  off",  as  in  court-houses,  police  rooms,  and 
menageries,  for  spectators.  The  good,  honest 
people  from  the  country,  after  visiting  the  men- 
ageries to  see  the  lions,  tigers,  and  monkeys  fed, 
hastened  to  the  palace  to  see  the  king  and  queen 
take  their  soup.  They  were  always  especially 
delighted  with  the  skill  with  which  Louis  XV. 
would  strike  off  the  top  of  his  egg  with  one 
blow  of  his  fork.  This  was  the  most  valuable 
accomplishment  the  monarch  over  thirty  mill- 
ions of  people  possessed,  and  the  one  in  which 
he  chiefly  gloried.  The  spectators  entered  at 
one  door  and  passed  out  at  another.  No  re- 
spectably dressed  person  was  refused  admis- 
•ion.  The  consequence  was,  that  during  tha 
dining  hour  an  interminable  throng  was  pour- 
ing through  the  apartment;  those  in  the  ad- 
vance crowded  slowly  along  by  those  in  the 
rear,  and  all  eyes  riveted  upon  the  royal  feed- 
er*. The  members  of  the  royal  family  of 
France,  accustomed  to  this  practice  from  in 


1775.]  BRIDAL    DAYS.  63 

V«nafll«a.  Magnificence  of  the  palM*. 

fancy,  did  not  regard  it  at  all.  To  Maria  An- 
toinette it  was,  however,  excessively  annoying , 
and  though  she  submitted  to  it  while  she  was 
dauphiness,  as  soon  as  she  ascended  the  throne 
ahe  discontinued  the  practice.  The  people  felt 
that  they  were  thus  deprived  of  one  of  their 
inalienable  privileges,  and  murmurs  loud  and 
angry  rose  against  the  innovating  Austrian. 

Much  of  the  time  of  Louis  and  his  bride  was 
passed  at  the  palaces  of  Versailles.  This  re* 
nowned  residence  of  the  royal  family  of  France 
is  situated  about  ten  rniles  from  Paris,  in  the 
midst  of  an  extensive  plain.  Until  the  middle 
of  the  seventeenth  century  it  was  only  a  small 
village.  At  this  time  Louis  XIV.  determined 
to  erect  upon  this  solitary  spot  a  residence  wor- 
thy of  the  grandeur  of  his  throne.  Seven  years 
were  employed  in  completing  the  palace,  garden, 
and  park.  No  expense  was  spared  by  him  or 
his  successors  to  render  it  the  most  magnificent 
residence  in  Europe.  No  regal  mansion  or  city 
oa%>  boast  a  greater  display  of  reservoirs,  fount- 
ains, gardens,  groves,  cascades,  and  the  various 
other  embellishments  and  appliances  of  pleas- 
are.  The  situation  of  the  principal  palace  is 
on  a  gentle  elevation.  Its  front  and  wings  are 
of  polished  stone,  ornamented  with  statue*,  and 


64  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [1775 

Gallery  of  paintings,  statuary,  eta.  Gorgeous  laloon* 

*  Ojionnade  of  the  Doric  order  is  in  the  center. 
The  grand  hall  is  about  two  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  in  length,  with  costly  decorations  in  mar- 
ble,  paintings,  and  gilding.  The  other  apart- 
ments  are  of  corresponding  size  and  elegance. 
This  beautiful  structure  is  approached  by  three 
magnificent  avenues,  shaded  by  stately  trees, 
.eading  respectively  from  Paris,  St.  Cloud,  and 
Versailles. 

This  gorgeous  mansion  of  the  monarohs  of 
France  presents  a  front  eight  hundred  feet  in 
length,  and  has  connected  with  it  fifteen  pro- 
jecting buildings  of  spacious  dimensions,  deco- 
rated with  Ionic  columns  and  pilasters,  consti- 
tuting almost  a  city  in  itself.  One  great  gal- 
lery, adorned  with  statuary,  paintings,  and  arch- 
itectural embellishments,  is  two  hundred  and 
thirty-two  feet  long,  thirty  broad,  and  thirty- 
seven  high,  and  lighted  by  seventeen  large  win- 
dows. Many  gorgeous  saloons,  furnished  with 
the  most  costly  splendor,  a  banqueting-room  oi 
the  most  spacious  dimensions,  where  luxuri- 
eus  kings  have  long  rioted  in  midnight  revels, 
an  opera  house  and  a  chapel,  whose  beautifully 
fluted  pillars  support  a  dome  which  is  the  ad- 
miration of  all  who  look  up  upon  ito  graceful 
beauty,  combine  to  lend  attractions  to  these 


/BBSAJU.ES — PHONT  VIEW, 


ll—o 


— t'OUKT   YARD. 


£775.]  BRIDAL  DAT*.  67 


royal  abodes  such  as  few  other  earthly  mansions 
can  rival,  and  none,  perhaps,  eclipse.  The  gar 
dens,  in  the  midst  of  which  this  voluptuous  res- 
idence reposes,  are  equal  in  splendor  to  the  pa* 
ace  they  are  intended  to  adorn.  Here  the  kings 
of  France  had  rioted  in  boundless  profusion,  and 
every  conceivable  appliance  of  pleasure  was  col- 
lected in  these  abodes,  from  which  all  thoughts 
of  retribution  were  studiously  excluded.  The 
expense  incurred  in  rearing  and  embellishing 
this  princely  structure  has  amounted  to  un- 
wanted millions.  But  we  mast  not  forget  that* 
<hese  millions  were  wrested  from  the  toiling 
multitude,  who  dwelt  in  mud  hovels,  and  ate 
the  coarsest  food,  that  their  proud  and  licen- 
tious rulers  might  be  "clothed  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,  and  fare  sumptuously  every  day."  Such 
was  the  home  to  which  the  beautiful  Maria  An- 
toinette, the  bride  of  fifteen,  was  introduced  ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  temptations  to  which  such 
voluptuousness  exposed  her,  she  entered  upon 
her  dark  and  gloomy  career.  This,  however, 
was  but  one  of  her  abodes.  It  was  but  one 
even  of  her  country  seats.  At  Versailles  there 
were  other  palaces,  in  the  construction  and  the 
embellishment  of  which  the  revenues  of  the 
kingdom  had  been  lavished  and  in  whose  lax.- 


68  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [1775 

Tto  Great  **d  th«  Litta  Trianon.  Oardmu,  cuscadeg,  etc 

urious  chambers  all  the  laws  of  God  had  been 
openly  set  at  defiance  by  those  earthly  kings 
who  ever  forgot  that  there  was  one  enthroned 
above  them  as  the  King  of  kings. 

Within  the  circuit  of  the  park  are  two  smaller 
palaces,  called  the  Great  and  the  Little  Trianon. 
These  may  be  called  royal  residences  hi  minia- 
ture ;  seats  to  which  the  king  and  queen  retired 
when  desirous  of  laying  aside  their  rank  and 
ptate.  The  Little  Trianon  was  a  beautiful  pal- 
ace, about  eighty  feet  square.  It  was  built  by 
Louis  XV.  for  Madame  du  Barri.  Its  archi- 
tectural style  was  that  of  a  Roman  pavilion, 
and  it  was  surrounded  with  gardens  ornamented 
in  the  highest  attainments  of  French  and  En- 
glish art,  diversified  with  temples,  cottages,  and 
cascades.  This  was  the  favorite  retreat  of  Ma- 
ria Antoinette.  This  she  regarded  as  peculiarly 
her  home.  Here  she  was  for  a  time  compar- 
atively happy.  Though  living  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  jealousies,  and  intrigues,  and  bicker- 
ings of  a  court,  and  though  in  heart  deeply 
j;ainod  by  the  strange  indifference  and  neglect 
which  her  husband  manifested  toward  her  per- 
•on,  the  buoyancy  of  her  youthful  spirit  enabled 
her  to  triumph,  in  a  manner,  over  those  influ- 
ences of  depression,  and  she  wan  the  life  and  the 


FOUNTAINS  AT  VERSAILLES. 


FOUNTAIN  oy  TH*. 


1775,]  BRIDAL   DAY*.  71 

»«Ur»  of  M»rU'i  mind.  Wnfti  ta  tfa«  |*nfaa 

ornament  of  every  gay  scene.  As  her  mind 
had  been  but  little  cultivated,  she  had  but  few 
resources  within  herself  to  dispel  that  ennui 
which  is  the  great  foe  of  the  votaries  of  fashion ; 
and,  unconscious  of  any  other  sources  of  enjoy- 
ment, she  plunged  with  all  the  zest  of  novelty 
into  an  incessant  round  of  balls,  operas,  thea- 
ters, and  masquerades.  Her  mind,  by  nature, 
was  one  of  the  noblest  texture,  and  by  suitable 
culture  might  have  exulted  in  the  appreciation 
of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  sublime  in  the  world 
of  nature  and  in  the  realms  of  thought.  Sh« 
loved  the  retirement  of  the  Little  Trianon.  She 
4>ved,  in  the  comparative  quietude  of  that  min- 
iature palace,  of  that  royal  home,  to  shake  off 
all  the  restraints  of  regal  state,  and  to  live  with 
a  few  choice  friends  in  the  freedom  of  a  private 
lady.  Unattended  she  rambled  among  the  flow- 
ers  of  the  garden ;  and  in  the  bright  moonlight, 
leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a  female  friend,  she 
forgot,  as  she  gazed  upon  the  moon,  and  the 
stars,  and  all  the  somber  glories  of  the  night, 
that  she  was  a  queen,  and  rejoiced  in  those 
emotions  common  to  every  ennobled  spirit.  Here 
•he  often  lingered  in  the  midst  of  congenial  joys, 
till  the  murmurs  of  courtiers  drew  her  away  to 
the  more  exciting,  but  far  less  satisfying  scene* 


72  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [1775 

Mufe't  wM*«f  ectacatioa.  8he  •ttompt*  to  rapply  it 

of  fashionable  pleasure.  She  often  lamented 
bitterly,  and  even  with  tears,  her  want  of  in- 
tollectual  cultivation,  and  so  painfully  felt  hei 
inferiority  when  in  the  society  of  ladies  of  intel- 
ligence and  highly-disciplined  minds,  that  she 
«ought  to  surround  herself  with  those  whose 
tastes  were  no  more  intellectual  than  her  own. 
"  What  a  resource,"  she  once  exclaimed,  "  amid 
the  casualties  of  life,  is  a  well-cultivated  mind } 
One  can  then  be  one's  own  companion,  and  find 
society  in  one's  own  thoughts."  Here,  in  her 
Little  Trianon,  she  made  several  unavailing  at- 
tempts to  retrieve,  by  study,  those  hours  of  child- 
hood which  had  been  lost.  But  it  was  too  late. 
For  a  few  days,  with  great  zeal  and  self-denial, 
she  would  persevere  in  secluding  herself  in  the 
library  with  her  books.  But  it  was  in  vain  for 
the  Queen  of  France  to  strive  again  to  become 
a  school-girl.  Those  days  had  passed  forever. 
The  innumerable  interruptions  of  her  station 
frustrated  all  her  endeavors,  and  she  was  com- 
pelled to  abandon  the  attempt  in  sorrow  ano 
despair.  We  know  not  upon  how  trivial  events 
the  great  destinies  of  the  world  are  suspended; 
and  had  the  Queen  of  France  possessed  a  high- 
ly-disciplined mind — had  she  been  familiar  wn* 
the  teachings  of  history,  and  been  capable  of 


1775.]  BRIDAL   DAYS.  7fi 

Uaria'i  enemle*.  Their  mallgnuit  dander* 

inspiring  respect  by  her  intellectual  attainments, 
it  is  tar  from  impossible  that  she  might  have 
tived  and  died  in  peace.  But*  almost  the  only 
aours  of  enjoyment  which  shone  upon  Maria 
while  Queen  of  France,  was  when  she  forgot 
that  she  was  a  queen,  and,  like  a  village  maid- 
en, loitered  through  the  gardens  and  the  groves 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  Little  Trianon  was 
embowered. 

The  enemies  of  Maria  had  sedulously  en- 
deavored to  spread  the  report  through  France 
that  she  was  still  in  heart  an  Austrian ;  that 
she  loved  only  the  country  she  had  left,  and 
that  she  had  no  affection  for  the  country  ovei 
which  she  was  to  reign  as  queen.  They  falsely 
and  malignantly  spread  the  report  that  she  had 
changed  the  name  of  Little  Trianon  into  Little 
Vienna.  The  rumor  spread  rapidly.  It  exci- 
ted great  displeasure.  The  indignant  denials 
of  Maria  were  disregarded.  Thus  the  number 
of  her  enemies  was  steadily  increasing 

Another  unfortunate  occurrence  took  place, 
which  rendered  her  still  more  unpopular  at  court 
Her  brother  Maximilian,  a  vain  and  foolish 
young  man,  made  a  visit  to  his  sister  at  the 
court  of  Versailles,  not  traveling  in  his  own 
proper  rank,  but  under  an  assumed  name.  It 


76  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [177ft 

VWt  of  Maximilian.  A  quarrel  about  fonts 

was  quite  common  with  princes  of  the  blood- 
royal,  for  various  reasons,  thus  to  travel.  The 
young  Austrian  prince  insisted  that  the  first 
visit  was  due  to  him  from  the  princes  of  the  roy« 
al  family  in  France.  They,  on  the  contrary 
insisted  that,  as  he  was  not  traveling  in  his  own 
name,  and  in  the  recognition  of  his  own  proper 
rank,  it  was  their  duty  to  regard  him  as  of  the 
character  he  had  assumed,  and  as  this  was  of 
a  rank  inferior  to  that  of  a  royal  prince,  it  could 
not  be  their  duty  to  pay  the  first  visit.  The 
dispute  ran  high.  Maria,  seconded  by  the  Abbe 
Vermoad,  took  the  part  of  her  brother.  This 
greatly  offended  many  of  the  highest  nobility  of 
the  realm.  It  became  a  family  quarrel  of  greai 
bitterness.  A  thousand  tongues  were  busy 
whispering  malicious  accusations  against  Ma- 
ria. Ribald  songs  to  sully  her  name  were  hawk- 
ed through  the  streets.  Care  began  to  press 
heavily  upon  the  brow  of  the  dauphiness,  an<* 
•orrow  to  spread  its  pallor  over  her  cheek.  Her 
high  spirit  could  not  brook  the  humility  of  en 
deavoring  the  refutation  of  the  calumnies  urgeu 
against  her.  Still,  she  was  too  sensitive  not  to 
feel  them  often  with  the  intensest  anguish 
Her  husband  was  comparatively  a  stranger  to 
her  He  bowed  to  her  with  much  civility  whea 


1775.]  BRIDAL    DAY*.  77 

Unexpected  tandorneM  of  Lmri* 

they  met,  but  never  addressed  her  with  a  word 
or  gesture  of  tenderness,  or  manifested  the  least 
desire  to  see  her  alone.  One  evening,  when 
walking  in  the  garden  of  Little  Trianon,  he  as- 
tonished the  courtiers,  and  almost  overpowered 
Maria  with  delightful  emotions,  by  offering  her 
his  arm.  This  was  the  most  affectionate  act 
with  which  he  had  ever  approached  her  Such 
were  the  bridal  days  of  Maria  Antoinette. 


78  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1774 

.  MlMd  with  small-pox.  Flight  of  the  courtier* 


CHAPTER  III. 


I~N  the  year  1774,  about  four  years  after  the 
-•-  marriage  of  Maria  Antoinette  and  Louis, 
{he  dissolute  old  king,  Louis  XV.,  in  his  palace 
at  Versailles,  surrounded  by  his  courtiers  and 
his  lawless  pleasures,  was  taken  sick.  The 
disease  soon  developed  itself  as  the  small-pox  in 
its  most  virulent  form.  The  physicians,  know- 
ing the  terror  with  which  the  conscience-smitten 
wvnarch  regarded  death,  feared  to  inform  him 
»f  the  nature  of  his  disease. 

"What  are  these  pimples,"  inquired  the  king, 
"  which  are  breaking  out  all  over  my  body  ?" 

"They  are  little  pustules,"  was  the  reply 
"  which  require  three  days  in  forming,  three  in 
suppurating,  and  three  in  drying." 

The  dreadful  malady  which  had  seized  npon 
the  king  was  soon,  however,  known  throughout 
the  court,  and  all  fled  from  the  infection.  The 
miserable  monarch,  hated  by  his  subjects,  de- 
•pised  by  his  courtiers,  and  writhing  under  the 
aoorpion  lash  of  his  own  conscience,  was  left  tc 


1774.)          MARIA   ENTHRONED. 

The  MirchloneM  da  Pompadour.  Her  dissolute 

groan  and  die  alone.  It  was  a  horrible  termi- 
nation of  a  most  loathsome  life. 

The  vices  of  Louis  XV.  sowed  the  seeds  of 
the  French  Revolution.  Two  dissolute  women, 
notorious  on  the  page  of  history,  each,  in  their 
turn,  governed  him  and  France.  The  Marchion- 
ess du  Pompadour  was  his  first  favorite.  Am- 
bitious, shrewd,  unprincipled,  and  avaricious, 
she  held  the  weak-minded  king  entirely  under 
her  control,  and  spread  throughout  the  court 
an  influence  so  contaminating  that  the  whole 
empire  was  infected  with  the  demoralization. 
Upon  this  woman  he  squandered  almost  the  rev- 
enues of  the  kingdom.  The  celebrated  Pare  au 
Cerf,  the  scene  of  almost  unparalleled  voluptu- 
ousness, was  reared  for  her  at  an  expense  of 
twenty  millions  of  dollars.  After  her  charmt 
had  faded,  she  still  contrived  to  retain  her  po- 
litical influence  over  the  pliant  monarch,  until 
she  died,  at  the  age  of  forty-four,  universally  de- 
tested. 

Madame  du  Barri,  of  whom  we  have  before 
ipoken,  succeeded  the  Marchioness  du  Pompa- 
dour in  this  post  of  infamy.  The  king  lavished 
upon  her,  in  the  short  space  of  eight  years,  more 
than  ten  millions  of  dollars.  For  her  he  erect- 
•d  the  Little  Trianon,  with  its  gardens,  parks, 


90  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1774 

PahMehery  of  Louis  XV.  He  wpundan  the  pnbrtc  iwreM* 

and  fountains,  a  temple  of  pleasure  dedicated 
to  lawless  passion.  The  king  had  totally  neg- 
lected the  interests  of  his  majestic  empire,  con- 
secrating every  moment  of  time  to  his  own  sens- 
ual gratification.  The  revenues  of  the  realm 
were  squandered  in  the  profligacy  and  caroua- 
ings  of  his  court.  The  people  were  regarded 
merely  as  servants  who  were  to  toil  to  minister 
to  the  voluptuous  indulgence  of  their  masters. 
They  lived  in  penury,  that  kings,  and  queens^ 
and  courtiers  might  revel  in  all  imaginable 
magnificence  and  luxury.  This  was  the  ulti- 
mate cause  of  that  terrible  outbreak  which 
eventually  crushed  Maria  Antoinette  beneath 
the  ruins  of  the  French  monarchy.  Louis  XV., 
in  his  shameless  debaucheries,  not  only  expend- 
ed every  dollar  upon  which  ^he  could  lay  hit 
hands,  but  at  his  death  left  the  kingdom  in- 
volved in  a  debt  of  four  hundred  millions  of  dol- 
lars, which  was  to  be  paid  from  the  scanty  earn- 
ings of  peasants  and  artisans  whose  condition 
was  hardly  superior  to  that  of  the  enslaved  I*" 
borers  on  the  plantations  of  Carolina  and  Lou- 
isiana. But  I  am  wandering  from  my  story. 

In  a  chamber  of  the  palace  of  the  Little  Tri- 
anon  we  left  the  king  dying  of  the  confluent 
•mall-pox.  The  courtiers  have  fled  in  oonster- 


1774.1          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  SI 


Wtnetan»  Tba  Uatp  rt  the 


nation.  It  is  the  hour  of  midnight,  the  10th  of 
May,  1774.  The  monarch  of  France  is  alone 
as  he  struggles  with  the  king  of  terrors.  No 
attendants  linger  around  him.  Two  old  wom- 
en, in  an  adjoining  apartment,  occasionally  look 
in  upon  the  mass  of  corruption  upon  the  royal 
couch,  which  had  already  lost  every  semblance 
of  humanity.  The  eye  is  blinded.  The  swoll- 
en tongue  can  not  articulate.  What  thought 
of  remorse  or  terror  may  be  rioting  through  the 
soul  of  the  dying  king,  no  one  knows,  and  —  no 
one  cares.  A  lamp  flickers  at  the  window, 
which  is  a  signal  to  those  at  a  safe  distance 
that  the  king  still  lives.  Its  feeble  flame  is  to 
be  extinguished  the  moment  life  departs.  The 
courtiers,  from  the  windows  of  the  distant  pal- 
ace, watch  with  the  most  intense  solicitude  the 
glimmering  of  that  midnight  taper.  Should  the 
king  recover,  they  dreaded  the  reproach  of  hav- 
ing deserted  him  in  the  hour  of  his  extremity 
They  hope,  so  earnestly,  that  he  may  not  live. 
Should  he  die,  they  are  anxious  to  be  the  first 
in  their  congratulations  to  the  new  king  and 
queen.  The  hours  of  the  night  linger  wearily 
away  as  expectant  courtiers  gaze  impatiently 
through  the  gloom  upon  that  dim  torch.  Th« 

horses  are  harnessed  hi  the  carriages,  and  wait- 
11—6 


82  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1774 

Death  of  Louis  XV.  Indecent  hacte  of  the  eowOerm. 

ing  at  the  doors,  that  the  courtiers,  without  tha 
loss  of  a  moment,  may  rush  to  do  homage  to 
the  new  sovereign. 

The  clock  was  tolling  the  hour  of  twelve  at 
night  when  the  lamp  was  extinguished.  The 
miserable  king  had  ceased  to  breathe.  The  en- 
suing  scene  no  peri  can  delineate  or  pencil  paint. 
The  courtiers,  totally  forgetful  of  French  eti- 
quette, rushed  down  the  stairs,  crowded  into 
their  carriages,  and  the  silence  of  night  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  clattering  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  as 
they  were  urged,  at  their  utmost  speed,  to  the 
apartments  of  the  dauphin. 

There  Maria  Antoinette  and  Louis,  with  a  fev 
family  friends,  were  awaiting  the  anticipated  in- 
telligence of  the  death  of  their  grandfather  the 
king.  Though  neither  of  them  could  have  cher- 
ished any  feelings  of  affection  for  the  dissolute  old 
monarch,  it  was  an  hour  to  awaken  in  the  soul 
emotions  of  the  deepest  melancholy.  Death  had 
approached,  in  the  most  frightful  form,  the  spot 
on  earth  where,  probably,  of  all  others,  he  wa» 
luost  dreaded.  Suddenly  a  noise  was  heard,  as 
of  thunder,  in  the  ante-chamber  of  the  dauphin. 
It  was  the  rush  of  the  courtiers  from  the  dead 
monarch  to  bow  at  the  shrine  of  the  new  di»- 
peooors  of  wealth  and  power.  This  extraordi- 


1774.J          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  88 

Eo*>«lofU  of  the  jouiif  king  and  qoeea.  Homage  of  th«  eovrttor*. 

aary  tumult,  in  the  silence  of  midnight,  con- 
veyed  to  Maria  and  Louis  the  first  intelligence 
that  the  crown  of  France  had  fallen  upon  their 
brows.  Louis  was  then  twenty -four  years  of 
age, .modest,  timid,  and  conscientious.  Maria 
was  twenty,  mirthful,  thoughtless,  and  shrink- 
ing from  responsibility.  They  were  both  over- 
whelmed, and,  falling  upon  their  knees,  exclaim- 
ed, with  gushing  tears,  "  O  God  !  guide  u«, 
protect  us  ;  we  are  too  young  to  govern." 

The  Countess  de  Noailles  was  the  first  to  sa- 
lute Maria  Antoinette  as  Queen  of  France. 
She  entered  the  private  saloon  in  which  they 
were  sitting,  and  requested  their  majesties  to 
enter  the  grand  audience  hall,  where  the  princes 
and  all  the  great  officers  of  state  were  anxious 
to  do  homage  to  their  new  sovereigns.  Maria 
Antoinette,  leaning  upon  her  husband's  arm, 
and  with  her  handkerchief  held  to  her  eyes, 
which  were  bathed  in  tears,  received  these  first 
expressions  of  loyalty.  There  was,  however, 
not  an  individual  found  to  mourn  for  the  de- 
parted king.  No  one  was  willing  to  endanger 
his  safety  by  any  act  of  respect  toward  his  re- 
mains. The  laws  of  France  required  that  the 
chief  surgeon  should  open  the  body  of  the  de- 
parted monarch  and  embalm  it,  and  that  the 


&4  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [1774 

Bwttl  of  Lovfc  XT.  Th«  king  and  qneen  leave  VerM0tM 

first  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber  should  hold 
the  head  while  the  operation  was  performed. 

**  You  will  see  the  body  properly  ern  'mod?' 
said  the  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber  to  the 
surgeon. 

"  (Certainly,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  and  you  wil) 
hold  the  head  ?" 

Each  bowed  politely  to  the  other,  without  the 
exchange  of  another  word.  The  body,  unopen- 
ed and  unemnalmed,  was  placed  by  a  few  un- 
der servants  in  a  coffin,  which  was  filled  with 
the  spirits  of  wine,  and  hurried,  without  an  at- 
tendant mourner,  to  the  tomb.  Such  was  the 
earthly  end  of  Louis  XV.  In  an  hour  ho  was 
forgotten,  or  remembered  but  to  be  despised. 

At  four  o'clock  of  that  same  .morning,  the 
young  king  and  queen,  with  the  whole  court  in 
retinue,  left  Versailles,  in  their  carriages,  lor 
Choisy  The  morning  was  cold,  dark,  and 
cheerless.  The  awful  death  of  the  king,  and 
the  succeeding  excitements,  had  impressed  the 
company  with  gloom.  Maria  Antoinette  rode 
in  the  carriage  with  her  husband,  and  with  one 
or  two  other  members  of  the  royal  family.  For 
«wme  time  they  rode  in  silence,  Maria,  a  child 
of  impulse,  weeping  profusely  from  the  emo- 
tion* which  moved  her  so»i  But,  ere  long,  tht 


1774.]          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  85 

IVe  coronation.  Enthusiasm  of  the  people 

morning  dawned.  The  sun  rose  bright  and 
clear  over  the  hills  of  France,  and  the  whole 
beautiful  landscape  glittered  in  the  light  «»f  the 
most  lovely  of  spring  mornings.  Insensibly  the 
gloom  of  the  mind  departed  with  the,  gl«»mn  of 
night.  Conversation  commenced.  The  mourn- 
ful past  was  forgotten  in  anticipation  of  the 
bright  future.  Some  jocular  remark  of  the 
young  king's  sister  elicited  a  general  burst  of 
laughter,  when,  by  common  consent,  they  wiped 
away  their  tears,  banished  all  funereal  k><»ks, 
and,  a  merry  party,  rode  merrily  along,  over  hill 
and  dale,  .to  a  crown  and  a  throne.  Little  did 
they  dream  that  these  sunny  hours  and  this 
flowery  path  but  conducted  them  to  a  dungeon 
and  the  guillotine. 

The  coronation  soon  took  place  at  Rheims, 
with  the  greatest  display  of  festive  magnifi- 
cence. The  novelty  of  a  new  reign,  with  a 
youthful  king  and  queen,  elated  the  versatile 
French,  and  loud  and  enthusiastic  were  the  ac- 
clamations with  which  Louis  and  Maria  Antoi- 
nette were  greeted  whenever  they  appeared. 
They  were  both,  for  a  time,  very  popular  with 
the  nation  at  large,  though  there  was  in  the 
court  a  party  hostile  to  the  queen,  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  every  act  of  indiscretion  to  traduce 


86  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1774 

Mute'*  griet  The  king's  estrangement 

her  character  and  to  expose  her  to  ignominy 
In  these  efforts  they  succeeded  so  effectually  as 
to  overwhelm  themselves  in  the  same  ruin  which 
they  had  brought  upon  their  victim.  A  deep- 
seated  but  secret  grief  still  preyed  upon  the 
heart  of  Maria.  Though  four  years  since  her 
marriage  had  now  passed  away,  she  was  still 
comparatively  a  stranger  to  her  husband.  He 
treated  her  with  respect,  with  politeness,  but 
with  cold  reserve,  never  approaching  her  as  hia 
wife.  The  queen,  possessing  naturally  a  very 
affectionate  disposition,  was  extremely  fond  of 
children.  Despairing  of  ever  becoming  a  moth- 
er herself,  she  thought  of  adopting  some  pleas- 
ant child  to  be  her  playmate  and  friend.  One 
,.  -o  she  was  riding  in  her  carriage,  a  beau- 
tiful  little  peasant  boy,  about  five  years  of  age, 
with  large  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair,  got  under 
the  feet  of  the  horses,  though  he  was  extricated 
without  having  received  any  injury.  As  the 
grandmother  rushed  from  the  cottage  door  to 
take  the  child,  the  queen,  standing  up  in  her 
carriage,  extended  her  arms  to  the  old  woman, 
and  said, 

"  The  child  is  mine.     God  has  given  it  to  ma 
to  rear  and  to  cherish.     Is  his  mother  alive  T* 

*'  No,  madame !"  was  the  reply  of  the  old 


1774.]          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  & 

Thfl  little  peuant  boy .  Become*  •  monster  of  tngradtuda. 

women.      "  My  daughter  died  last  winter,  and 
left  five  small  children  upon  my  hands." 

**  I  will  take  this  one,"  said  the  queen,  "  and 
will  also  provide  for  all  the  rest.  Will  you  con- 
sent?" 

"  Indeed,  madame,"  exclaimed  the  cottager, 
"  they  are  too  fortunate.  But  I  fear  Jernmie 
will  not  stay  with  you.  He  is  very  wayward." 

The  postillion  handed  Jemmie  to  the  queen 
in  the  carriage,  and  she,  taking  him  upon  her 
knee,  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  immedi 
ately  to  the  palace.  The  ride,  however,  was 
any  thing  but  a  pleasant  one,  for  the  ungovern- 
ed  boy  screamed  and  kicked  with  the  utmost 
violence  during  the  whole  of  the  way.  The 
queen  was  quite  elated  with  her  treasure ;  for 
the  boy  was  extremely  beautiful,  and  he  was 
soon  seen  frolicking  around  her  in  a  white  frock 
trimmed  with  lace,  a  rose-colored  sash,  with  sil- 
ver fringe,  and  a  hat  decorated  with  feathers. 
I  may  here  mention  that  the  petted  favorite 
grew  up  into  a  monster  of  ingratitude,  and  be- 
came one  of  the  most  sanguinary  actors  in  the 
scenes  of  terror  which  subsequently  ensued. 

One  would  think  that  the  enemies  of  Maria 
Antoinette  could  hardly  take  advantage  of  this 
ououmstarioe  to  her  injury ;  but  they  atro- 


88  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1774 

The  queen's  traducer*.  The  heron's  plume 

eiously  affirmed  that  this  child  was  her  own 
unacknowledged  offspring,  whose  ignominious 
birth  she  had  concealed.  They  represented  the 
whole  adventure  but  a  piece  of  trickery  on  her 
part,  to  obtain,  without  suspicion,  possession  of 
her  own  child.  Such  accusations  were  borne 
upon  the  wings  of  every  wind  throughout  Eu- 
rope, and  the  deeply-injured  queen  could  only 
submit  in  silence. 

Another  little  incident,  equally  trivial,  was 
magnified  into  the  grossest  of  crimes.  The 
Duke  de  Lauzun  appeared  one  evening  at  an 
entertainment  with  a  very  magnificent  plume 
of  white  heron's  feathers.  The  queen  casually 
expressed  her  admiration  of  its  beauty..  A  lady 
immediately  reported  to  the  duke  the  remarks 
of  the  queen,  and  assured  him  that  it  would  be 
a  great  gratification  to  her  majesty  to  receive  a 
present  of  the  plume.  He,  the  next  morning, 
sent  the  plume  to  the  queen.  She  was  quite 
embarrassed,  being  unwilling  to  accept  the 
plume,  and  yet  fearing  to  wound  the  feelings  of 
the  duke  by  refusing  the  present.  She,  on  the 
whole,  however,  concluded  to  retain  it,  and  wore 
it  once,  that  she  might  not  seem  to  scorn  the 
present,  and  then  laid  it  aside.  It  is  difficult  to 
oonceive  how  the  queen  could  have  conducted 


1775.)  MARIA    ENTHRONED.  S9 

VUe  glanders.  Profligate  character  of  D«  Lanzua. 

more  discreetly  in  the  affair.  Such  was  the 
story  of  "  The  Heron's  Plume."  It  was,  how- 
ever,  maliciously  reported  through  Paris  that 
the  queen  was  indecently  receiving  presents 
from  gentlemen  as  her  lovers.  "  The  Heron's 
Plume"  figured  conspicuously  in  many  a  satire 
in  prose  and  verse.  These  shafts,  thrown  from 
a  thousand  unseen  hands,  pierced  Maria  Antoi- 
nette to  the  heart.  This  same  Duke  de  Lau- 
zun,  a  man  of  noted  profligacy,  subsequently 
became  one  of  the  most  unrelenting  foes  of  the 
queen.  He  followed  La  Fayette  to  America, 
and  then  returned  to  Paris,  to  plunge,  with  the 
most  reckless  gayety,  into  the  whirlpool  of  hu- 
man passions  boiling  and  whirling  there.  In 
the  conflict  of  parties  he  became  a  victim.  Con- 
demned to  death,  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  Con- 
oiergerie.  Imbruted  by  atheism,  he  entered  his 
eell  with  a  merry  song  and  a  joke.  He  furnish- 
ed a  sumptuous  repast  for  the  prisoners  at  the 
hour  appointed  for  his  execution,  and  invited 
the  jailers  for  his  guests.  When  the  execution- 
ers arrived,  he  smilingly  accosted  them.  "  Gen- 
tlemen, I  am  very  happy  to  see  you ;  just  allo-w 
me  to  finish  these  nice  oysters."  Then.,  very 
politely  taking  a  decanter  of  wine,  he  said, 
"  Your  duties  will  be  quite  ar  luous  to-day,  gen* 


90  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1775 

Execution  of  De  Lanznn.  A  life  of  ple*>nra 

tlemen ;  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  taking  a  glass 
of  wine  with  you."  Thus  merrily  he  ascended 
the  cart,  and  beguiled  the  ride  from  the  prison 
to  the  guillotine  with  the  most  careless  pleas- 
antries. Gayly  tripping  up  the  steps,  he  placed 
himself  in  the  fatal  instrument,  and  a  smile  wa» 
upon  his  lips,  and  mirthful  words  were  falling 
upon  the  ears  of  the  executioners,  when  the  slide 
fell,  and  he  was  silent  in  death.  That  soul  must 
indeed  be  ignoble  which  can  thus  enter  the  dread 
unseen  of  futurity. 

There  is  no  end  to  these  acts  of  injustice  in- 
flicted upon  the  queen.  The  influences  which 
had  ever  surrounded  her  had  made  her  very 
fond  of  dress  and  gayety.  She  was  devoted  to 
a  life  of  pleasure,  and  was  hardly  conscious  that 
there  was  any  thing  else  to  live  for.  In  fetes, 
balls,  theaters,  operas,  and  masquerades,  she 
passed  night  after  night.  Such  was  the  only 
occupation  of  her  life.  The  king,  on  the  con- 
trary, had  no  taste  for  any  of  these  amusements. 
Uncompanionable  and  retiring,  he  lived  with 
his  books,  and  in  his  workshop  making  trinkets 
for  children.  Always  retiring  to  rest  at  the 
early  hour  of  eleven  o'clock  precisely,  he  left 
the  queen  to  pursue  her  pleasures  until  the 
lawn  of  the  morning,  unattended  by  him.  It 


1775.]          MARIA  ENTHROMKD.  91 

Maria  •  tmprwtence.  Night  •dTentnr*  In  a  hackney  «o«ch, 

was  very  imprudent  in  Maria  Antoinette  thus 
to  ex  prise  herself  to  the  whispers  of  calumny. 
She  was  young,  inexperienced,  and  ha/*  no  ju- 
dicious advisers. 

One  evening,  she  had  been  out  in  her  carriage, 
and  was  returning  at  rather  a  late  hour,  the 
lady  of  the  palace  being  with  her,  when  her  car- 
riage broke  down  at  her  entrance  into  Paris. 
The  queen  and  the  duchess  were  both  masked 
and,  stepping  into  an  adjoining  shop,  as  they 
were  unknown,  the  queen  ordered  one  of  the 
footmen  to  call  a  common  hackney-coach,  and 
they,  both  entering,  drove  to  the  opera-house, 
with  very  much  the  same  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous in  being  found  in  so  plebeian  a  vehicle,  as 
a  New  York  lady  would  feel  on  passing  through 
Broadway  in  a  hand-cart  or  on  a  wheel-barrow. 
The  fun-loving  queen  was  so  entertained  with 
the  whimsical  adventure,  that  she  could  not  re- 
frain from  exclaiming,  as  soon  as  she  entered 
the  opera-house,  to  the  intimate  friends  she  met 
there,  "  Only  think !  I  came  to  the  opera  in  a 
hacknoy -coach !  Was  it  not  droll  ?  was  it  not 
droll?"  The  news  of  the  indiscretion  spread. 
All  Paris  was  full  of  the  adventure.  Rumor, 
with  her  thousand  tongues,  added  innumerable 
«rabelliflhments.  Neither  the  delicacy  nor  the 


92  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1776 

The  jardene  of  Marly.  Their  nnriraled  splendor 

dignity  of  the  queen  would  allow  her  serious- 
ly to  attempt  the  refutation  of  the  calumny  that, 
neglected  by  her  husband,  she  had  been  out  in 
disguise  to  meet  a  nobleman  renowned  fcr  Ks 
gallantries. 

Nothing  can  be  more  irksome  than  the  fri- 
volities of  fashionable  life.  To  spend  night  after 
night,  of  months  and  years,  in  an  incessant 
round  of  the  same  trivial  gayeties,  so  exhaust* 
all  the  susceptibilities  of  enjoyment  that  life  it- 
self becomes  a  burden.  Louis  XIV.  had  crea- 
ted for  himself  a  sort  of  elysium  of  voluptuous- 
ness in  the  celebrated  gardens  of  Marly.  Spread 
out  upon  the  gentle  declivity  of  an  extended  hili 
were  grounds  embellished  in  the  highest  style 
of  art,  and  intended  to  rival  the  garden  of  Eden 
itself  in  every  conceivable^  attraction.  Pavil- 
ions of  gorgeous  architecture  crowned  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill.  Flowers,  groves,  enchanting 
walks,  and  statues  of  most  voluptuous  beauty, 
fountains,  lakes,  cascades  foaming  over  chan- 
nels of  whitest  marble — all  the  attractions  of 
nature  and  art  were  combined  to  realize  the 
most  fanciful  dreams  of  splendor  and  luxury 
Pleasure  was  the  only  god  here  adored ;  but, 
like  all  false  gods,  he  but  rewarded  hia  votaries 
with  satiety  and  disgust. 


1775.]          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  93 

•Uria'i  vicitfi  to  Marly.  H0*rtl«w  guyety 

The  queen,  with  her  brilliant  retinue,  made 
«  monthly  visit  to  these  palaces  and  pleasure- 
grounds,  and  with  music,  illumination,  and 
da  aces,  endeavored  to  beguile  life  of  its  jareb.  A 
noisy  concourse,  glittering  with  diamonds  and 
til  the  embellishments  of  wealth,  thronged  tue 
embowered  avenues  and  the  sumptuous  halk 
And  while  the  young,  in  the  mazes  of  the  dance, 
and  in  the  uneasy  witchery  of  whining  and  los- 
ing hearts,  were  all  engrossed,  the  old,  in  the 
still  deeper  but  ignoble  passion  of  desperate 
gaming,  forgot  gliding  time  and  approaching; 
eternity.  But  the  spirit  of  Maria  was  soon 
weary  of  this  heartless  gayety.  Each  succeed- 
ing visit  became  more  irksome,  and  at  last,  in 
inexpressible  disgust  with  the  weary  monotony 
of  fashionable  dissipation,  she  declared  that  she 
would  never  enter  the  gardens  of  Marly  again. 
But  she  must  have  some  occupation.  Wnat 
shall  she  do  to  give  wings  to  the  lagging  hours  ? 

"  Has  your  majesty,"  timidly  suggests  a  lady 
ef  the  court,  "  ever  seen  the  sun  rise  ?" 

"  The  sun  rise  !"  exclaimed  the  queen ;  "  no, 
never !  What  a  beautiful  sight  it  must  be ' 
What  a  romantic  adventure !  we  will  go  to- 
morrow morning." 

The  plan  was  immediate  y  arranged.     Th» 


96  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1775 

Bnnrto  at  Marty.  More  food  for  ilamloi 

prosaic  king  would  take  no  part  in  it.  He  pre- 
ferred quietly  to  slumber  upon  his  pillow.  A 
few  hours  after  midnight,  the  queen,  with  sev. 
eral  gentlemen,  and  her  attendant  ladies,  all  in 
nigh  glee,  left  the  palace  in  their  carriages  to 
ascend  the  lofty  eminence  of  the  gardens  of 
Marly  to  witness  the  sublime  spectacle.  Tnou- 
sands  of  the  humbler  classes  had  already  left 
their  beds  and  commenced  their  daily  toil,  as 
the  brilliant  cavalcade  swept  by  them  on  this 
novel  excursion.  It  was,  however,  a  freak  so 
strange,  so  unaccountable,  so  contrary  to  any 
thing  ever  known  before,  that  this  nocturnal 
party  became  the  theme  of  universal  conversa- 
tion. It  was  whispered  that  there  must  have 
been  some  mysterious  wickedness  connected 
with  an  adventure  so  marvelous.  Groups  upon 
the  Boulevards  inquired,  "  Why  is  the  queen 
thus  frolicking  at  midnight  without  h«r  hus- 
band ?"  In  a  few  days  a  ballad  appeared,  winch 
was  sung  by  the  vilest  lips  in  the  warehouses 
of  infamy,  full  of  the  most  malignant  charge* 
gainst  the  queen.  Maria  Antoinette  was  im- 
prudent, very  imprudent,  and  that  was  her  only 
wime. 

Still,  the  young  queen  must  have  amuse- 
ment*.    She  is  weary  of  parade  and  solendor 


1773.J          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  97 

Ample  habita  of  the  queen.  Horror  of  the  courtiers  and  dowager*. 

and  seeks  in  simplicity  the  novelty  of  enjoyment 
Dressed  in  white  muslin,  with  a  plain  straw  hat, 
and  a  little  switch  in  her  hand,  she  might  often 
be  seen  walking  on  foot,  followed  by  a  single  serv- 
ant, through  the  embowered  paths  which  sur- 
rounded the  Petit  Trianon.  Through  lanes  and 
oy-ways  she  would  chase  the  butterfly,  and  pick 
flowers  free  as  a  peasant  girl,  and  lean  over  the 
fences  to  chat  with  the  country  maids  as  they 
milked  the  cows.  This  entire  freedom  from  re- 
straint was'  etiquette  in  the  court  of  Vienna ; 
it  was  regarded  as  barbarism  in  the  court  of 
Versailles.  The  courtiers  were  amazed  at  con- 
duct so  unqueenly.  The  ceremony-stricken 
dowagers  were  .shocked.  Paris,  France,  Eu- 
rope, were  filled  with  stories  of  the  wayward- 
ness, and  eccentricities,  and  improprieties  of 
tne  young  queen.  The  loud  complaints  were 
poured  so  incessantly  in  the  ear  of  Maria  The- 
resa, that  at  last  she  sent  a  special  embassador 
to  Versailles,  in  disguise,  as  a  spy  upon  her 
daughter.  He  reported,  "  The  queen  is  impru- 
dent, that  is  all." 

There  happened,  in  a  winter  of  unusual  in- 
clemency, a  heavy  fall  of  snow.     It  was  a  rare 
light  at  Versailles.    Maria  Antoinette,  remind- 
ed of  the  merry  sleigh  rides  she  had  enjoyed  in 
11—7 


fco  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1775 

Sleigh  riding.  Blind  man's  buff  and  other  ganio4 

the  more  northern  home  of  her  childhood,  wag 
eager  to  renew  the  pleasure.  Some  antiquated 
sledges  were  found  in  the  stables.  New  ones, 
gay  and  graceful,  were  constructed  The  hors- 
es, with  nodding  plumes,  and  gorgeous  capari- 
sons, and  tinkling  bells,  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the 
Parisians  as  they  swept  through  the  Champs 
Elys'3es,  drawing  their  loads  of  lords  and  ladies 
enveloped  in  furs.  It  was  a  new  amusement 
— an  innovation.  Envious  and  angry  lips  de- 
clared that  "the  Austrian,  with  an  Austrian 
heart,  was  intruding  the  customs  of  Vienna  upon 
Paris."  These  ungenerous  complaints  reached 
the  ear  of  the  queen,  and  she  instantly  reiin 
quished  the  amusement. 

Still  the  queen  is  weary.  Time  hangs  heav- 
ily upon  her  hands.  All  the  pleasures  of  the 
court  have  palled  upon  her  appetite,  and  she 
seeks  novelty.  She  introduces  into  the  retired 
apartments  of  the  Little  Trianon,  "  blind  man's 
buff,"  "  fox  and  geese,"  and  other  similar  game*, 
and  joins  heartily  in  the  fun  and  the  frolic.  "  A 
queen  playing  blind  man's  buff!"  Simpletons—- 
and the  world  is  full  of  simpletons — raised  their 
hands  and  eyes  in  affected  horror.  Private  dra- 
matic entertainments  were  got  up  to  relieve 
the  tedium  of  unemplrved  time  The  queen 


1775.)           MARIA    ENTHRONED.  99 

Dnmatie  entertainment*.  Increwing  affection  of  the  kia& 


learns  her  part,  and  appears  in  the  character  and 
costume  of  a  peasant  girl.  Her  genius  excites 
much  admiration,  and,  intoxicated  with  this  new 
pleasure,  she  repeats  the  entertainment,  and 
alike  excels  in  all  characters,  whether  comic  or 
tragic.  The  number  of  spectators  is  gradually 
increased.  Louis  is  not  exactly  pleased  to  see 
his  queen  transformed  into  an  actress,  even  in 
the  presence  only  of  the  most  intimate  friends 
of  the  court.  Half  jocosely,  half  seriously,  umid 
the  rounds  of  applause  with  which  the  royal 
actress  is  greeted,  he  hisses.  It  was  deemed 
extremely  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  queen 
that  she  should  indulge  in  such  amusements, 
and  every  gossiping  tongue  in  Paris  was  soon 
magnifying  her  indiscretions. 

Eight  years  had  now  passed  away  since  the 
narriage  of  Maria  Antoinette,  and  still  she  was 
in  name  only,  the  wife  of  Louis.  She  was  still 
a  young  lady,  for  he  had  never  yet  approached 
her  with  any  familiarity  with  which  he  would 
not  approach  any  young  lady  of  his  court.  But 
about  this  time  the  king  gradually  manifested 
more  tenderness  toward  her.  He  began  really 
and  tenderly  to  love  her.  With  tears  of  joy, 
•he  confided  te  her  friends  the  groat  change 
which  had  taken  place  in  his  conduct.  The  va- 


100  MAR    A     ANTOINETTE.  [177& 

Efforts  to  alienate  the  king's  affection*.  Agitation  of  the  queen. 

rious  troubles  and  embarrassments  which  began 
now  to  lower  about  the  throne  and  to  darken 
their  path,  bound  their  sympathies  more  strong- 
ly together.  Strenuous  efforts  were  made  to 
alienate  the  king  from  the  queen  by  exciting  hia 
jealousy.  Maria  was  accused  of  the  grossest 
immoralities,  and  insinuations  to  her  injury 
were  ever  whispered  into  the  ear  of  the  king. 

One  morning  Madame  Campan  entered  the 
queen's  chamber  when  she  was  in  bed.  Sev- 
eral letters  were  lying  upon  the  bed  by  her  side, 
and  she  was  weeping  as  though  her  heart  woulc3 
_ireak.  She  immediately  exclaimed,  covering 
,ier  swollen  eyes  with  her  hands,  "  Oh !  I  wish 
lhat  I  were  dead!  I  wish  that  I  were  dead! 
The  wretches !  the  monsters !  what  have  I  done 
that  they  should  treat  me  thus !  it  would  be 
better  to  kill  me  at  once."  Then,  throwing  her 
arms  around  the  neck  of  Madame  Campan,  she 
burst  more  passionately  into  tears.  All  attempts 
to  console  her  were  unavailing.  Neither  was 
dhe  willing  to  confide  the  cause  of  her  heart- 
rending grief.  After  some  time  she  regained 
her  usual  serenity,  and  said,  with  an  attempted 
•mile,  "  I  know  that  I  have  made  you  very  un- 
comfortable this  morning,  and  I  must  set  your 
poor  beart  at  ease.  You  must  hare  seen,  on 


MARIA  ENTHRONED.  IU1 

Maria't  children.  Royal  vlnton 

some  fine  summer's  day,  a  black  cloud  suddenly 
appear,  and  threaten  to  pour  down  upon  the 
country  and  lay  it  in  wast?.  The  lightest  wind 
ilrives  it  away,  and  the  blue  sky  and  serene 
Breather  are  restored.  This  is  just  the  image 
of  what  has  happened  to  me  this  morning." 

Notwithstanding,  however,  these  efforts  ?f 
the  malignant,  the  king  became  daily  more  and 
more  strongly  attached  to  the  queen.  In  the 
embarrassments  which  were  gathering  around 
him,  he  felt  the  support  of  her  energetic  mind, 
and  looked  to  her  counsel  with  continually  in- 
creasing  confidence.  It  was  about  nine  years 
after  their  marriage  when  their  first  child  waa 
born.  Three  others  were  subsequently  added 
to  their  family.  Two,  however,  of  the  children,  a 
son  and  a  daughter,  died  in  early  childhood,  leav- 
ing two  others,  Maria  Theresa  and  Louis  Charles, 
to  share  and  to  magnify  those  woes  which  subse- 
quently overwhelmed  the  whole  royal  family. 

During  all  these  early  years  of  their  reign, 
Versailles  was  their  favorite  and  almost  constant 
abode.  They  were  visited  occasionally  by  rnon- 
archs  from  the  other  courts  of  Europe,  whom 
they  entertained  with  the  utmost  display  of 
royal  grandeur.  Bonfires  and  illuminations 
turned  night  into  day  in  the  groves  and  garden* 


102  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [1775 

Lxtravagant  expenditure*.  Riling  dUeontento 

cf  those  gorgeous  palaces.  Thousands  were 
feasted  in  boundless  profusion.  Millions  of 
money  were  expended  in  the  costly  amusements 
of  kings,  and  queens,  and  haughty  nobles.  The 
people,  by  whose  toil  the  revenues  of  the  king- 
dom were  furnished,  looked  from  a  humble  dis- 
tance upon  the  glittering  throng,  gliding  through 
the  avenues,  charioted  in  splendor,  and  now  and 
then  a  deep  thinker,  struggling  against  poverty 
and  want,  would  thus  soliloquize :  "  Why  do 
we  thus  toil  to  minister  to  the  useless  luxury 
of  these  our  imperious  masters  ?  Why  must  I 
eat  black  bread,  and  be  clothed  in  the  coarsest 
garments,  that  these  lords  and  ladies  may  glitter 
in  jewelry  and  revel  in  luxury?  Why  must 
my  children  toil  like  bond  slaves  through  life, 
that  the  children  of  these  nobles  may  be  clothed 
in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fare  sumptuously 
every  day  ?"  The  multitude  were  bewildered 
by  the  glare  of  royalty.  But  here  and  there  a 
sullen  fish-woman,  leading  her  ragged,  hajf- 
starved  children,  would  mumble  and  mutter, 
and  curse  the  "Austrian,"  as  the  beautifu: 
queen  swept  by  in  her  gorgeous  equipage 
These  discontents  and  portentous  murmurs  were 
spreading  rapidly,  when  neither  king,  queen,  no? 
courtiers  dreamed  of  their  existence 


1775.J          MARIA  ENTHRONED.  103 

L*  F«f ette  and  Franklin.  The  people  begin  to  count  the  eo*ta 

A  few  had  heard  of  America,  its  freedom,  its 
equality,  its  fame  even  for  the  poorest,  its  com- 
petence. La  Fayette  had  gone  to  help  the  Re- 
publicans crush  the  crown  and  the  throne. 
Franklin  was  in  Paris,  the  embassador  from 
America,  in  garb  and  demeanor  as  simple  and 
frugal  as  the  humblest  citizen,  and  all  Paris 
gazed  upon  him  with  wonder  and  admiration. 
A  few  bold  spirits  began  to  whisper,  "  Let  us 
also  have  no  king."  The  fires  of  a  volcano  were 
kindling  under  the  whole  structure  of  French 
society.  It  was  time  that  the  mighty  fabric  of 
corruption  should  be  tumbled  into  the  dust.  The 
splendor  and  the  extravagance  of  these  royal 
festivities  added  but  fuel  to  the  flame.  The 
people  began  to  compute  the  expense  of  bonfires, 
palaces,  equipages,  crown  jewels,  and  courtiers. 
It  is  extremely  impertinent,  Maria  thought  and 
said,  for  the  people  to  meddle  in  matters  with 
which  they  have  no  concern.  Slaves  have  no 
right  to  question  the  conduct  of  their  masters. 
It  was  the  misfortune  of  her  education,  and  of 
the  influences  which  ever  surrounded  her,  that 
•he  never  imagined  that  kings  and  queens  were 
treated  for  any  other  purpose  than  to  live  in 
luxury.  The  Empress  Catharine  II.  of  Russia, 
a?  these  discontents  were  xoud  and  threatening, 


104  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         ]1775 

Letter  from  the  Empress  Catharina  The  clouds  thicken 

wrote  to  Maria  Antoinette  a  letter,  in  which 
she  says,  "  Kings  and  queens  ought  to  proceed 
in  their  career  undisturbed  by  the  cries  of  the 
people,  as  the  moon  pursues  her  course  unim- 
peded by  the  howling  of  dogs."  This  was  then 
the  spirit  of  the  throne. 

And  now  the  days  of  calamity  began  to  grow 
darker.  Intrigues  were  multiplied,  involving 
Maria  in  interminable  difficulties.  There  were 
instinctive  presentiments  of  an  approaching 
storm.  Death  carne  into  the  royal  palace,  and 
distorted  the  form  of  her  eldest  son,  and  by 
Angering  tortures  dragged  him  to  the  grave. 
And  then  her  little  daughter  was  taken  from 
her.  Maria  watched  at  the  couch  of  suffering 
and  death  with  maternal  anguish.  The  glow- 
ing heart  of  a  mother  throbbed  within  the  bosom 
of  Maria.  The  heartlessness  and  emptiness  of 
all  other  pursuits  had  but  given  intensity  to  the 
fervor  of  a  mother's  love.  Though  but  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  she  had  drained  every  cup  of 
pleasure  to  its  dregs.  And  now  she  began  to 
anter  upon  a  path  evarv  year  more  dark,  dreary, 
and  desolate. 


1786. 1    THK    DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        105 

tUawrt  of  Talleyrand.  Tb»  Cunflnal  de  Rotum. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE. 

ABOUT  this  time  there  occurred  an  event 
which,  though  apparently  trivial,  involved 
consequences  of  the  most  momentous  import- 
ance. It  was  merely  the  fradulent  purchase  of 
a  necklace,  by  a  profligate  woman,  in  the  name 
of  the  queen.  The  circumstances  were  such  as 
to  throw  all  France  into  agitation,  and  Europe 
was  full  of  the  story.  "  Mind  that  miserable 
affair  of  the  necklace,"  said  Talleyrand ;  "  I 
should  be  nowise  surprised  if  it  should  overturn 
the  French  monarchy."  To  understand  this 
mysterious  occurrence,  we  must  first  allude  to 
two  very  important  characters  implicated  in  the 
conspiracy. 

The  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  though  one  of  tho 
highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  and  of  the 
most  illustrious  rank,  was  a  young  man  of  vain 
and  shallow  mind,  of  great  profligacy  of  char- 
acter, and  perfectly  prodigal  in  squandering,  in 
•etentatious  pomp,  all  the  revenues  within  his 
reach.  He  had  been  sent  an  embassador  to  the 


106  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1786. 

Rohan's  emuggling  operations.  He  U  ditgraeed. 

court  of  Vienna.  Surrounding  himself  with  a 
retinue  of  spendthrift  gentlemen,  he  endeavored 
to  dazzle  the  Austrian  capital  with  moro  than 
regal  magnificence.  Expending  six  or  seven 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the  course  of  a  fev» 
months,  he  soon  became  involved  in  inextricable 
embarrassments.  In  the  extremity  of  his  dis- 
tress, he  took  advantage  of  his  official  station, 
and  engaged  in  smuggling  with  so  much  effront- 
ery that  he  almost  inundated  the  Austrian  cap- 
ital with  French  goods.  Maria  Theresa  was 
extremely  displeased,  and,  without  reserve,  ex- 
pressed her  strong  disapproval  of  his  conduct, 
both  as  a  bishop  and  as  an  embassador.  The 
cardinal  was  consequently  recalled,  and,  disap- 
pointed and  mortified,  he  hovered  around  the 
court  of  Versailles,  where  he  was  treated  with 
the  utmost  coldness.  He  was  extremly  anxious 
again  to  bask  in  the  beams  of  royal  favor.  But 
the  queen  indignantly  repelled  all  his  advances. 
His  proud  spirit  was  nettled  to  the  quick  by  his 
disgrace,  and  he  was  ripe  for  any  desperate  ad- 
venture to  retrieve  his  ruined  fortunes. 

There  was,  at  the  same  time,  at  Versailles. 
ft  very  beautiful  woman,  the  Countess  Lamotte 
She  traced  her  lineage  to  the  kings  of  France, 
and,  by  her  vices,  struggled  to  sustain  a  style 


1786.]   THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        107 

rhe  Countesa  Lamotte.  The  qnecn't  jewelry 

of  ostentatious  gentility.  She  was  consumed 
by  an  insatiable  thirst  for  recognized  rank  and 
wealth,  and  she  had  no  conscience  to  interfere, 
in  the  slightest  degree,  with  any  means  which 
might  lead  to  those  results.  Though  somewhat 
notorious,  as  a  woman  of  pleasure,  to  the  court- 
iers who  flitted  around  the  throne,  the  queen 
had  never  seen  her  face,  and  had  seldom  heard 
even  her  name.  Versailles  was  too  much 
thronged  with  such  characters  for  any  one  to 
attract  any  special  attention. 

Maria  Antoinette,  in  her  earlier  days,  had 
been  extremely  fond  of  dress,  and  particularly 
of  rich  jewelry.  She  brought  with  her  from 
Vienna  a  large  number  of  pearls  and  diamonds. 
Upon  her  accession  to  the  throne,  she  received, 
of  course,  all  the  crown  jewels.  Louis  XV.  had 
also  presented  her  with  all  the  jewels  belonging 
to  his  daughter,  the  dauphiness,  who  had  re- 
cently died,  and  also  with  a  very  magnificent 
collar  of  pearls,  of  a  single  row,  the  smallest  of 
which  was  as  large  as  a  filbert.  The  king,  her 
Jlusband,  had,  not  long  before,  presented  her 
with  a  set  of  rubies  and  diamonds  of  a  fine  wa- 
ter, and  with  a  pair  of  bracelets  which  cost  forty 
thousand  dollars.  Boehmer,  the  crown  jeweler, 
!»ad  collected,  at  a  great  expense,  six  pear- form- 


108  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [178ft 

Bt»hmer,  the  crown  jeweler.  The  diamond  ear  ring* 

ed  diamonds,  of  prodigious  size.  They  were 
perfectly  matched,  and  of  the  finest  water.  They 
were  arranged  as  ear-rings.  He  offered  them 
to  the  queen  for  eighty  thousand  dollars.  The 
young  and  royal  bride  could  not  resist  the  de- 
sire of  adding  them,  costly  as  they  were,  to  her 
casket  ol  gems.  She,  however,  economically 
removed  two  of  the  diamonds  which  formed  the 
tops  of  the  clusters,  and  replaced  them  by  two 
of  her  own.  The  jeweler  consented  to  this  ar- 
rangement, and  received  the  reduced  price  of 
seventy-two  thousand  dollars,  to  be  paid  in  equal 
installments  for  five  years,  from  the  private 
purse  of  the  queen.  Still  the  queen  felt  rather 
uneasy  in  view  of  her  unnecessary  purchase. 
Murmurs  of  her  extravagance  began  to  reach 
her  ears.  Satiated  with  gayety  and  weary  of 
jewels,  as  a  child  throws  aside  its  play-things, 
Maria  Antoinette  lost  all  fondness  for  her  costly 
treasures,  and  began  to  seek  novelty  in  the  ut- 
most simplicity  of  attire,  and  in  the  most  art- 
less joys  of  rural  life.  Her  gorgeous  dresses 
hung  neglected  in  their  wardrobes.  Her  gems, 
"of  purest  ray  serene,"  slept  in  the  darknesc 
of  the  unopened  casket.  The  queen  had  be- 
come a  mother,  and  all  those  warm  and  nobla 
affections  which  had  been  diffused  and  \vast«*d 


1786.)  THK  DIAMOND  NLCKLACE.   109 

Change  In  the  queon'i  life.  The  dl»»ond  necklM* 

apon  frivolities,  were  now  concentrated  with  in- 
tensest  ardor  upon  her  children.  A  new  era 
had  dawned  upon  Maria  Antoinette.  Her  soul, 
Dy  nature  exalted,  was  beginning  to  find  ob- 
jects worthy  of  its  energies.  Rapidly  she  was 
groping  her  way  from  the  gloom  of  the  most 
wretched  of  all  lives — a  life  of  pleasure  and  of 
self-indulgence — to  the  true  and  ennobling  hap- 
piness ol  oenevolence  and  self-sacrifice. 

Bcehmer,  .the  jeweler,  unaware  of  the  great 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  the  cha-acter 
of  the  queen,  resolved  to  form  for  her  the  most 
magnificent  necklace  which  was  ever  seen  in 
Europe.  He  busied  himself  for  several  years 
in  collecting  the  most  valuable  diamonds  circu- 
lating in  commerce,  and  thus  composed  a  neck- 
lace of  several  rows,  whose  attractions,  he  hoped, 
would  be  irresistible  to  the  queen.  In  the  pur« 
chase  of  these  brilliant  gems,  the  jeweler  had 
expended  far  more  than  his  own  fortune.  For 
many  of  them  he  owed  large  sums,  and  his  only 
hope  of  paying  these  debts  was  in  effecting  a 
•ale  to  the  queen. 

Boehmer  requested  Madame  Campan  to  in- 
form the  queen  what  a  beautiful  necklace  he 
had  arranged,  hoping  that  she  might  express  a 
desire  to  gee  it  This,  however,  Madame  Cam- 


110  MARIA  ANTOIKETTE. 

The  queen  inspects  the  necklace.  Answer  of  their  majestic* 

pan  declined  doing,  as  she  did  not  wish  to  tempi 
the  queen  to  incur  the  expense  of  three  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  dollars,  the  price  of  the 
glittering  bawble.  Bcehmer,  after  endeavoring 
for  some  time  in  vain  to  get  the  gems  exposed 
to  the  eye  of  the  queen,  induced  a  courtier  high 
in  rank  to  show  the  superb  necklace  to  his  maj- 
esty. The  king,  now  loving  the  queen  most 
tenderly,  wished  to  see  her  adorned  with  this 
unparalleled  ornament,  and  sent  the  case  to  the 
queen  for  her  inspection.  Maria  Antoinette  re- 
plied, that  she  had  already  as  many  beautiful 
diamonds  as  she  desired  ;  that  jewels  were  now 
worn  but  seldom  at  court ;  that  she  could  not 
think  it  right  to  encourage  so  great  an  expense 
for  such  ornaments;  and  that  the  money  the} 
would  cost  would  be  much  better  expended  in 
building  a  man-of-war.  The  king  concurred  in 
this  prudent  decision,  and  the  diamonds  were 
returned  to  the  jeweler  from  their  majesties 
with  this  answer :  "  We  have  more  need  of  ships 
than  of  diamonds." 

Bcehmer  was  in  great  trouble,  and  knew  not 
what  to  do.  He  spent  a  year  in  visiting  the 
other  courts  of  Europe,  hoping  to  induce  some 
of  the  sovereigns  to  purchase  his  neck] ace,  but 
hi  vain  Almost  in  despair,  h«  returned  again 


1786.]    THE   DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        Ill 

•ovhmer'i  embarrassment  His  tntnrrlew  with  the  qroeea 

to  Versailles,  and  proposed  the  king  should  take 
it,  and  pay  for  it  partly  in  instalments  and  partly 
in  life  annuities.  The  king  mentioned  it  again 
to  the  queen.  She  replied,  that  if  his  majesty 
wished  to  purchase  the  necklace,  and  keep  it 
for  their  daughter,  he  might  do  so.  But  she 
declared  that  she  herself  should  never  be  will- 
ing to  wear  it,  for  she  could  not  expose  herself 
to  those  censures  for  extravagance  which  she 
knew  would  be  lavished  upon  her. 

The  jeweler  complained  loudly  and  bitterly 
of  his  misfortune.  The  necklace  having  beon 
exhibited  all  over  Europe,  his  troubles  were  a 
matter  of  general  conversation.  After  seveial 
months  of  great  perplexity  and  anxiety,  Boehmer 
succeeded  in  gaining  an  audience  of  the  queen. 
Passionately  throwing  himself  upon  his  knees 
before  her,  clasping  his  hands  and  bursting  into 
tears,  he  exclaimed, 

"  Madame,  I  am  disgraced  and  ruined  if  you 
do  not  purchase  my  necklace.  I  can  not  out- 
Ihre  my  misfortunes.  When  I  go  hence  I  shaL 
throw  myself  into  the  river." 

The  queen,  extremely  displeased,  said,  "  Rise, 
Bcehmer !  I  do  not  like  these  rhapsodies ;  hon- 
*st  men  have  no  occasion  to  fall  upon  their 
knees  to  make  known  their  requests.  If  you 


112  MARIA   AI-TOINETI*. 


n«  qoMB't  remark*.  B»hmeiJ»  ooafuMoa. 

were  to  destroy  yourself,  1  should  regret  you  as 
a  madman  in  whom  I  had  taken  an  interest, 
but  I  should  not  be  responsible  for  that  misfor- 
tune. I  not  only  never  ordered  the  article  whiofc 
eauses  your  present  despair,  but,  whenever  you 
have  talked  to  me  about  fine  collections  of  jew- 
els, I  have  told  you  that  I  should  not  add  ft  ur 
diamonds  to  those  I  already  possessed  1  told 
you  myself  that  I  declined  taking  the  necklace. 
The  king  wished  to  give  it  to  me ;  I  refused 
him  in  the  same  manner.  Then  never  mention 
it  to  me  again.  Divide  it,  and  endeavor  to  sel] 
it  piecemeal,  and  do  not  drown  yourself  1  arn 
very  angry  with  you  for  acting  this  scene  of  de- 
spair in  my  presence,  and  before  this  child.  Let 
me  never  see  you  behave  thus  again.  Go !" 

Brehmer,  overwhelmed  Avith  confusion,  re- 
tired, and  the  queen,  oppressed  with  a  multi- 
tude of  gathering  cares,  for  some  months  thought 
ao  more  of  him  or  of  his  jewels.  One  day  the 
queen  was  reposing  listlessly  upon  her  oouoj., 
with  Madame  Campan  and  other  ladies  of  hon- 
or about  her,  when,  suddenly  addressing  Ma- 
dame Campan,  she  inquired, 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  what  poor  Boehmer 
did  with  his  unfortunate  necklace  ?" 

"I  have  heard  nothing  of  it  since  he  left 


17SO.J   TmE    DIAMOND   NECKLACE.       113 

Alleged  dbpoMl  of  the  necklace.  Present  to  the  ktarfi  •»». 

you,"  was  the  reply,  "  though  I  often  meet 
b;m." 

"  I  should  really  like  to  know  how  the  unfcr 
anate  man  got  extricated  from  his  embarrass- 
nents,"  rejoined  the  queen ;  "  and,  when  you 
aext  see  him,  I  wish  you  would  inquire,  as  if 
from  your  own  interest  in  the  affair,  without 
any  allusion  to  me,  how  he  disposed  of  the  ar- 
ticle." 

In  a  few  days  Madame  Campan  met  Been- 
mer,  and,  in  reply  to  her  interrogatories,  he  in- 
.ormed  her  that  the  sultan  at  Constantinople 
had  purchased  it  for  the  favorite  sultana.  The 
queen  was  highly  gratified  with  the  good  for 
tune  of  the  jeweler,  and  yet  thought  it  verj 
strange  how  the  grand  seignior  should  have 
purchased  his  diamonds  at  Paris.  Matters  con- 
tinued in  this  state  for  some  time,  until  the 
baptism  of  the  Duke  d'Angouleme,  Maria  An- 
Dinette's  infant  son.  The  king  made  his  idol- 
ized boy  a  baptismal  present  of  a  diamond  ep- 
aulette and  buckles,  which  he  purchased  of  Boeh- 
mer,  and  directed  him  to  deliver  to  the  queen 
As  the  jeweler  presented  them,  he  slipped  into 
the  queen's  hand  a  letter,  in  the  form  of  a  peti- 
tion, containing  the  following  expression : 

"  1  am  happy  to  see  your  majesty  in  the  pm»- 

11—8 


114  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [17b6 

SoBhmer'i  note  to  the  queen.  The  queen  I  perplexity 

Cession  of  the  finest  diamonds  in  Europe ;  and 
I  entreat  your  majesty  not  to  forget  me." 

The  queen  read  this  strange  note  aloud,  again 
and  again  exclaiming,  "  What  does  the  man 
mean  ?  He  must  be  insane !"  She  quietly 
lighted  the  note  at  a  wax  taper  which  was  stand- 
ing near  her,  and  burned  it,  remarking  that  it 
was  not  worth  keeping.  Afterward,  as  she  re- 
flected more  upon  the  enigmatical  nature  of  the 
communication,  she  deeply  regretted  that  she 
had  not  preserved  the  note.  She  pondered  the 
matter  deeply  and  anxiously,  and  at  last  said  to 
Madame  Campan, 

"  The  next  time  you  see  that  man,  I  wish 
that  you  would  tell  him  that  I  have  lost  all 
taste  for  diamonds;  it  I  never  shall  buy  aii- 
other  as  long  as  1  live ;  and  that,  if  I  had  any 
money  to  spare,  I  should  expend  it  in  purchasing 
lands  to  enlarge  the  grounds  at  St.  Cloud." 

A  few  days  after  this,  Biehmer  called  upon 
Madame  Campan  at  her  country  house,  ex« 
tremely  uneasy  at  not  having  received  any  an- 
iwer  from  the  queen,  and  anxiously  inquired  if 
Madame  Campan  had  no  commission  to  him 
from  her  majesty.  Ma  laire  Campan  faithfully 
repeated  to  mm  ail  that  th*  queen  had  requested 
her  to  say. 


THE    DIAMOND   NECKLACE. 


intnrrlpw  with  Madame  Campan.  The  necklace  again 


"  Hut,"  rejoined  Bcehmer,  "the  answer  to  the 
lette r  I  presented  to  her !  To  whom  must  1  ap- 
ply for  that?" 

"  To  no  on«,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  her  majesty 
burned  your  memorial,  without  even  compre 
hem  lino;  its  meaning." 

"  Ah,  marlame !"  exclaimed  the-  man,  trem« 
bling  with  agitation,  "that  is  impossible;  the 
queen  knows  that  she  has  money  to  pay  me." 

"Money,  M.  Boehmer !"  replied  the  lady, 
"  your  last  accounts  against  the  queen  were  dis- 
charged long  ago." 

"And  are  you  not  in  the  secret?"  he  rejoined. 
"  The  queen  owes  me  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  and  I  am  ruined  by  her  neglect  to  pay 
me." 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  dollars  !"  exclaim- 
ed Madame  Campan,  in  amazement ;  "  man, 
you  have  lost  your  senses  !  For  what  does  she 
owe  you  that  enormous  sum  ?" 

"  For  the  necklace,  madame,"  replied  the 
jeweler,  now  pale  and  trembling  with  the  ap- 
prehension that  he  had  been  deceived. 

"The  necklace  again!"  said  Madame  Canv- 
pan.  "  How  long  is  the  queen  to  be  teased  about 
tija.t  necklace?  Did  not  you  yourself  tell  me 
that  yor  had  sold  it  at  Constantinople  ?" 


116  MAR  A  ANTOINETTB.         [1786 


The  drdtaal  de  Rohai^  ^adicatton*  of  •  plot 

"  The  queen,"  added  Boehmer,  "  requested 
me  to  make  that  reply  to  all  who  inquired  upon 
the  subject,  for  she  was  not  willing  to  have  it 
known  that  she  had  made  the  purchase.  She, 
however,  had  determined  to  have  the  necklace, 
and  sent  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  to  me  to  take 
it  in  her  name." 

"  You  are  utterly  deceived,  Boshmer,"  Ma- 
dame  Campan  replied ;  "the  queen  knows  noth- 
ing about  your  necklace.  She  never  speaks  oven 
to  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  and  there  is  no  man 
at  court  more  strongly  disliked  by  her." 

"You  may  depend  upon  it,  madame,  that 
you  are  deceived  yourself,"  rejoined  the  jeweler. 
"  She  must  hold  private  interviews  with  the 
cardinal,  for  she  gave  to  the  cardinal  six  thou- 
sand dollars,  which  he  paid  me  on  account,  and 
which  he  assured  me  he  saw  her  take  from  the 
little  porcelain  secretary  neyt  the  fire-place  in 
her  boudoir." 

"  Did  the  cardinal  himsell  assure  you  of  this?" 
inquired  Madame  Campan. 

"  Yes,  madame,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  a  detestable  plot !  There  is  not  one 
word  of  truth  in  it ;  and  you  have  been  mi  sera- 
Wy  deceived." 

"  I  confess,"  Bcehmer  rejoined,  now  trembling 


1786.]    THE   DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        117 

Boehmer'i  perplexity  The  cardinal's  embarraMmeftt 

In  every  joint,  "  that  I  have  felt  very  anxious 
about  it  for  some  time  ;  for  the  cardinal  assured 
me  that  the  queen  would  wear  the  necklace  on 
Whitsunday.  I  was,  however,  alarmed  in  see- 
ing that  she  did  not  wear  it,  and  that  induced 
me  to  write  the  letter  to  her  majesty.  But 
what  shall  I  do?" 

"  Go  immediately  co  Versailles,  and  lay  the 
whole  matter  before  the  king.  But  you  have 
been  extremely  culpable,  as  crown  jeweler,  in 
acting  in  a  matter  of  such  great  importance 
without  direct  orders  from  the  king  or  queen,  or 
their  accredited  minister." 

"  I  have  not  acted,"  the  unhappy  man  replied, 
"without  direct  orders.  I  have  now  in  my 
oossession  all  the  promissory  notes,  signed  by 
the  queen  herself;  and  I  have  been  obliged  tr> 
show  those  notes  to  several  bankers,  my  credit 
ors,  to  induce  them  to  extend  the  time  of  my 
payments." 

Instead,  however,  of  following  Madame  Cam 
pan's  judicious  advice,  Bcehmer,  half  delirious 
with  solicitude,  went  directly  to  the  cardinal, 
and  informed  him  of  all  that  had  transpired 
The  cardinal  appeared  very  much  embarrassed; 
asked  a  few  questions,  and  said  but  little.  He, 
however,  wrote  in  his  ^iary  the  following  mem* 


lib  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1786 


The  queen's  amazement 


orandum:  "On  this  day,  August  3,  Bcehmei 
went  to  Madame  Campan's  country-house,  and 
§he  told  him  that  the  queen  had  never  had  hi* 
necklace,  and  that  he  had  been  cheated." 

Bcehmer  was  almost  frantic  with  terror,  for 
the  loss  of  the  necklace  was  his  utter  and  irre- 
mediable ruin.  Finding  no  relief  in  his  inter- 
view with  the  cardinal,  he  hastened  to  Little 
Trianon,  and  sent  a  message  to  the  queen  that 
Madame  Cam  pan  wished  him  to  see  her  imme- 
diately. The  queen,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
occurrences  we  have  just  related,  exclaimed, 
"  That  man  is  surely  mad.  I  have  nothing  to 
gay  to  him,  and  1  will  not  see  him."  Madame 
Campan,  however,  immediately  called  upon  the 
queen,  for  she  was  very  much  alarmed  by  what 
«he  had  heard,  and  related  to  her  the  whole  oc- 
currence. The  queen  was  exceedingly  amazed 
and  perplexed,  and  feared  that  it  was  some 
deep-laid  plot  to  involve  her  in  difficalties.  Sha 
questioned  Madame  Carnpan  very  minutely  in 
reference  to  every  particular  of  the  interview, 
and  insisted  upon  her  repeating  the  conversa- 
tion over  and  over  again.  They  then  ^  ent  im- 
mediately to  the  king,  and  narrated  to  him  the 
whole  affair.  He,  aware  of  the  many  efforts 
had  been  made  to  traduce  the  character 


1786.]   TUB    DIAMOND   NECKLAOB         119 

The  cardinal  before  the  king  and  qneen.  His  &g  UQn& 

of  Maria  Antoinette,  and  to  expose  her  to  pub- 
lic contumely,  was  at  once  convinced  that  it 
was  a  treacherous  plot  of  the  cardinal  in  revenge 
for  his  neglect  at  court. 

The  king  instantly  sent  a  command  for  the 
cardinal  to  meet  him  and  the  queen  in  the  king's 
closet.  He  was,  apparently,  anticipating  the 
summons,  for  he,  without  delay,  appeared  be- 
fore them  in  all  the  pomp  of  his  pontifical  robes, 
but  was  nevertheless  so  embarrassed  that  he 
could  with  difficulty  articulate  a  sentence. 

"  You  have  purchased  diamonds  of  Bcehmer  ?n 
inquired  the  king. 

"  Yes,  sire,"  was  the  trembling  reply 

"  What  have  you  done  with  them  ?"  the  king 
added. 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  cardinal,  '*  that  they 
had  been  delivered  to  the  queen." 

"  Who  commissioned  you  to  make  tills  pur- 
chase?" 

"  The  Countess  Lamotte,"  was  tne  reply. 
"She  handed  me  a  letter  from  the  queen  re- 
questing me  to  obtain  the  necklace  for  her.  I 
fcnily  thought  that  I  was  obeying  her  majesty'* 
wishes,  and  doing  ber  a  favor,  by  taking  this 
business  upon  myself." 

"  How  could  you  imagine,  sir,"  indignantly 


120  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1786 

The  queen's  Indignation.  The  forged  totter 

interrupted  the  queen,  "  that  I  should  have  se- 
lected you  for  such  a  purpose,  when  I  have  not 
even  spoken  to  you  for  eight  years  ?  and  how 
could  you  suppose  that  I  should  have  acted 
through  the  mediation  of  such  a  character  as 
the  Countess  Lamotte  ?" 

The  cardinal  was  in  the  most  violent  agita- 
tion, and,  apparently  hardly  knowing  what  he 
said,  replied,  u  I  see  plainly  that  I  have  been 
duped.  I  will  pay  for  the  necklace  myself.  I 
suspected  no  trick  in  the  affair,  and  am  ex- 
tremely sorry  that  I  have  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  it." 

He  then  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  direct- 
ed to  the  Countess  Lamotte,  and  signed  with 
the  queen's  name,  requesting  her  to  secure  the 
purchase  of  the  necklace.  The  king  and  quoen 
looked  at  the  letter,  and  instantly  pronounced  it 
a  forgery.  The  king  then  took  from  his  own 
pocket  a  letter  addressed  to  the  jeweler  Bceh- 
mer,  and,  handing  it  to  De  Rohan,  said, 

"  Are  you  the  author  of  that  letter  ?" 

The  cardinal  turned  pale,  and,  leaning  upon 
his  hand,  appeared  as  though  he  would  fall  to 
the  floor 

"  I  have  no  wish,  cardinal,"  the  king  kindly 
replied,  "to  find  yon  guilty.  Explain  to  ma 


i?*H.j  THB  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.    121 

The  cardinal'!  confund  lUtetnenU.  Be  U  arrerted. 

this  enigma.  Account  for  all  those  maneuvers 
with  Boehmer.  Where  did  you  obtain  these 
securities  and  these  promissory  notes,  signed 
in  the  queen's  name,  which  have  been  given  to 
Bcehn.er  ?" 

The  cardinal,  trembling  in  every  nerve,  faint 
ly  replied,  "  Sire,  I  am  too  much  agitated  now 
to  answer  your  majesty.     Give  me  a  little  time 
to  collect  my  thoughts." 

"  Compose  yourself,  then,  cardinal,"  the  king 
added.  "  Go  into  my  cabinet.  You  will  there 
find  papers,  pens,  and  ink.  At  your  leisure, 
write  what  you  have  to  say  to  me." 

In  about  half  an  hour  the  cardinal  returned 
with  a  paper,  covered  with  erasures,  and  alter- 
ations, and  blottings,  as  confused  and  unsatisf- 
actory as  his  verbal  statements  had  been.  An 
officer  was  then  summoned  into  the  royal  pres- 
ence, and  commanded  to  take  the  cardinal  into 
custody  and  conduct  him  to  the  Bastile.  He 
was,  however,  permitted  to  visit  his  home.  The 
cardinal  contrived,  by  the  way,  to  scribble  a  line 
upon  a  scrap  of  paper,  and,  catching  the  eye  of 
a  trusty  servant,  he,  unobserved,  slipped  it  into 
his  hand.  It  was  a  direction  to  the  servant  to 
hasten  to  the  palace,  with  the  utmost  possible 
§peed,  and  commit  to  the  flames  all  of  his  pri. 


122  MARIA   ARTOINETTB.         [1786 


Arract  of  M^""*  Lamotte. 


vate  papers.  The  king  had  also  sent  officers  to 
the  cardinal's  palace  to  seize  his  papers  and  seal 
them  for  examination.  By  almost  superhuman 
exertions,  the  cardinal's  servant  first  arrived  at 
the  palace,  which  was  at  the  distance  of  sever- 
al miles.  His  horse  dropped  dead  in  the  court- 
yard. The  important  documents,  which  might, 
perhaps,  have  shed  light  upon  this  mysterious 
affair,  were  all  consumed. 

The  Countess  Lamotte  was  also  arrested,  and 
held  in  close  confinement  to  await  her  trial. 
She  had  just  commenced  living  in  a  style  of  ex- 
traordinary splendor,  and  had  vast  sums  at  her 
disposal,  acquired  no  one  knew  how.  It  is  dif- 
ficult to  imagine  the  excitement  which  this  story 
produced  all  over  Europe.  It  was  represented 
that  the  queen  was  found  engaged  in  a  swin- 
dling transaction  with  a  profligate  woman  to 
cheat  the  crown  jeweler  out  of  gems  of  inesti- 
mable value,  and  that,  being  detected,  she  was 
employing  all  the  influence  of  the  crown  to 
shield  her  own  reputation  by  consigning  the  in- 
nocent cardinal  to  infamy.  The  enemies  of  the 
qneen,  sustained  by  the  ecclesiastics  generally, 
rallied  around  the  cardinal.  The  king  and 
queen,  feeling  that  his  acquittal  would  be  the 
virtual  condemnation  of  Maria  Antoinette,  and 


1786.]    THE   DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        123 

Hie  qonen'i  anguUh.  The  cardinal'!  trial. 

firmly  convinced  of  his  guilt,  exerted  their  ut- 
most influence,  in  self-defense,  to  bring  him  to 
punishment.  Rumors  and  counter  rumors 
floated  through  Versailles,  Paris,  and  all  the 
oonrts  of  the  Continent.  The  tale  was  rehears- 
ed in  saloon  and  cafe  with  every  conceivable  ad- 
dition and  exaggeration,  and  the  queen  hardly 
knew  which  way  to  turn  from  the  invectives 
which  were  so  mercilessly  showered  upon  her. 
Her  lofty  spirit,  conscious  of  rectitude,  sustain- 
ed her  in  public,  and  there  she  nerved  herself 
to  appear  with  firmness  and  equanimity.  But 
in  the  retirement  of  her  boudoir  she  was  una- 
ble to  rep^l  the  most  melancholy  imaginings, 
and  often  wept  with  almost  the  anguish  of  a 
bursting  heart.  The  sunshine  of  her  life  had 
now  disappeared.  Each  succeeding  day  grew 
darker  and  darker  with  enveloping  glooms. 

The  trial  of  the  cardinal  continued,  with  vt 
rious  interruptions,  for  more  than  a  year.  Ver» 
powerful  parties  were  formed  for  and  agains 
him.  All  France  was  agitated  by  the  protract 
ed  contest.  The  cardinal  appeared  before  hi 
judges  in  mourning  robes,  but  with  all  the  pa- 
geantry of  the  most  imposing  ecclesiastical  cos- 
tume, lie  was  conducted  into  court  with  much 
ceremony,  and  treated  with  the  greatest  defer- 


MABIA   ANTOINETTE.  [1780. 


The  cardinal's  acquittal.  Ciufrin  of  the  kin*  and  queen. 

enoe.  In  the  trying  moment  in  which  he  first 
appeared  before  his  judges,  his  courage  seemed 
utterly  to  fail  him.  Pale  and  trembling  with 
emotion,  his  knees  bent  under  him,  and  he  had  to 
oling  to  a  support  to  proven*  himself  from  falling 
to  the  floor.  Five  or  six  voices  immediately  ad- 
dressed him  in  tones  of  sympathy,  and  the  pres- 
ident said,  "  His  eminence  the  cardinal  is  at 
liberty  to  sit  down,  if  he  wishes  it."  The  dis- 
tinguished prisoner  immediately  took  his  seat 
with  the  members  of  the  court.  Having  soon 
recovered  in  some  degree  his  composure,  he 
arose,  and  for  half  an  hour  addressed  his  judges, 
with  much  feeling  and  dignity,  repeating  hia 
protestations  of  entire  innocence  in  the  whole 
affair. 

At  the  close  of  this  protracted  trial,  the  car- 
dinal was  folly  acquitted  of  all  guilt  by  a  ma- 
jority of  three  voices.  The  king  and  queen 
were  extremely  chagrined  at  this  result.  Du- 
ring the  trial,  many  insulting  insinuations  were 
thrown  out  against  the  queen  which  could  not 
easily  be  repelled.  A  friend  who  called  upon 
her  immediately  after  the  decision,  found  her  in 
her  closet  weeping  bitterly.  "  Come,"  said  Ma- 
ria, "come  and  weep  for  your  queen,  insulted 
and  sacrificed  by  cabal  and  injustice."  The  kinp 


1786.]    THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.        125 

Trial  of  the  CoontaM  Ltmattn.  Her  oool  effrontery 

came  in  at  the  same  moment,  and  said,  "  Yon 
find  the  queen  much  afflicted;  she  has  great 
reason  to  be  so.  They  were  determined  through- 
out this  affair  to  see  only  an  ecclesiastical  prince, 
•  Prince  de  Rohan,  while  he  is,  in  fact,  a  needy 
fellow,  and  all  this  was  but  a  scheme  to  put 
money  into  his  pockets.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
be  an  Alexander  to  cut  this  Gordian  knot."  The 
cardinal  subsequently  emigrated  to  Germany, 
where  he  lived  in  comparative  obscurity  till 
1803,  when  he  died. 

The  Countess  Lamotte  was  brought  to  trial, 
but  with  a  painfully  different  result  Dressed  in 
the  richest  and  most  costly  robes,  the  dissolute 
beauty  appeared  before  her  judges,  and  aston- 
ished them  all  by  her  imperturbable  self-pos 
session,  her  talents,  and  her  cool  effrontery.  It 
was  clearly  proved  that  she  had  received  the 
necklace ;  that  she  had  sold  here  and  there  the 
diamonds  of  which  it  was  composed,  and  had 
thus  come  into  possession  of  large  sums  of  mon 
ey.  She  told  all  kinds  of  stories,  contradicting 
herself  in  a  thousand  ways,  accusing  now  one 
and  again  another  as  an  accomplice,  and  un- 
blnshingly  declaring  that  she  had  no  intention 
to  tell  the  truth,  for  that  neither  she  nor  the 
cardinal  had  uttered  one  single  word  before  f  he 


126  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1786 

The  connt»««  f  jund  guilty  Bai  b«rou»  •Ftntnnoe 

court  which  had  not  been  false.  She  was  found 
guilty,  and  the  following  horrible  sentence  was 
pronounced  against  her :  that  she  should  be 
whipped  upon  the  bare  back  in  the  court-yard 
of  the  prison ;  that  the  letter  V  should  be  burned 
into  the  flesh  on  each  shoulder  with  a  hot  iron  ; 
and  that  she  should  be  imprisoned  for  life.  The 
king  and  queen  were  as  much  displeased  with 
the  terrible  barbarity  of  the  punishment  of  the 
countess  as  they  were  chagrined  at  the  acquittal 
of  the  cardinal.  As  the  countess  was  a  descend- 
ant of  the  royal  family,  they  felt  that  the  igno- 
minious character  of  the  punishment  was  in 
tended  as  a  stigma  upon  them. 

As  the  countess  was  sitting  one  morning  in 
the  spacious  room  provided  for  her  in  the  pris- 
on, in  a  loose  robe,  conversing  gayly  with  some 
friends,  and  surrounded  by  all  the  appliances 
of  wealth,  an  attendant  appeared  to  conduct 
her  into  the  presence  of  the  judges.  Totally 
unprepared  for  the  awful  doom  impending  over 
her,  she  rose  with  careless  alacrity  and  entered 
the  court.  The  terrible  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced. Immediately  terror,  rage,  and  '^- 
•pair  seized  upon  her,  and  a  scene  of  horror  ^-»- 
roed  which  no  pen  can  describe.  Before  the 
«eutunoa  was  finished,  she  threw  herself  o««n 


THK    DIAMOND    NECK  LACK.        127 

Brutal  punishment  of  the  oounteM.  Her  unhappy  cod 

the  floor,  and  uttered  the  most  piercing  shriek* 
and  screams.  The  tumult  of  agitation  into 
which  she  was  thrown,  dreadful  as  it  was,  \e« 
laxed  not  the  stern  rigor  of  the  law  The  ex 
eoutioner  immediately  seized  her,  and  dragged 
her,  shrieking  and  struggling  in  a  delirium  of 
phrensy,  into  the  court-yard  of  the  prison.  Aa 
her  eye  fell  upon  the  instruments  of  her  igno- 
minious and  brutal  punishment,  she  seized 
anon  one  of  her  executioners  with  her  teeth, 
and  tore  a  mouthful  of  flesh  from  his  arm. 
She  was  thrown  upon  the  ground,  her  gar- 
ments, with  relentless  violence,  were  stripped 
from  her  back,  and  the  lash  mercilessly  cut  its 
way  into  her  quivering  nerves,  while  her  awful 
screams  pierced  the  damp,  chill  air  of  the  morn- 
ing. The  hot  irons  were  brought,  and  simmered 
upon  her  recoiling  flesh.  The  unhappy  creature 
was  then  carried,  mangled  and  bleeding,  and 
half  dead  with  torture,  and  terror,  and  mad- 
ness, to  the  prison  hospital.  After  nine  months 
of  imprisonment  she  was  permitted  to  escape 
She  fled  to  England,  and  was  found  one  morn- 
ing dead  upon  the  pavements  of  London,  hav. 
ing  been  thrown  from  a  third  story  window  ir 
*  midnight  carousal. 

Such  was  the  story  of  the  Diamond  Neck- 


128  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [1780. 

Innocence  of  the  queen.  Of  De  Rohan'*  criminality. 

lace.  Though  no  one  can  now  doubt  that 
Maria  Antoinette  was  perfectly  innocent  in  the 
whole  affair,  it,  at  the  time,  furnished  her  ene- 
mies with  weapons  against  her,  which  they  used 
with  fatal  efficiency.  It  was  then  represented 
that  the  Countess  Lamotte  was  an  accomplice 
of  the  queen  in  the  fraudulent  acquisition  oi 
the  necklace,  and  that  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan 
was  their  deluded  but  innocent  victim.  Tne 
horrible  punishment  of  Madame  Larnotte,  who 
boasted  that  royal  blood  circulated  in  her  veins, 
was  understood  to  be  in  contempt  of  royalty, 
and  as  the  expression  of  venomous  feeling  to- 
ward the  queen.  Both  Maria  Antoinette  and 
Louis  felt  it  as  such,  and  were  equally  ag- 
grieved by  the  acquittal  of  the  cardinal  and 
the  barbarous  punishment  of  the  countess 

Whether  the  cardinal  was  a  victim  or  an  ac- 
complice is  a  question  which  never  has  been, 
and  now  never  can  be,  decided.  The  mystery 
in  which  the  affair  is  involved  must  remain  a 
mystery  until  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  re- 
vealed at  the  great  day  of  judgment.  If  he 
was  the  guilty  instigator,  and  the  poor  countee» 
but  his  tool  and  victim,  how  much  has  he  yet 
to  be  accountable  for  in  the  just  retribution* 
of  eternity  !  There  were  three  supposition* 


1786 J    THE    DIAMOND    NECKLACE.        128 

The  three  rappocitlon*.  Inftwmoo  of  the  flrit 

adopted  by  the  community  in  the  attempt  to 
solve  the  mystery  of  this  transaction: 

1.  The  first  was,  that  the  queen  had  really 
employed  the  Countess  Lamotte  to  obtain  the 
necklace  by  deceiving  the  cardinal.     That  it 
was  a  trick  by  which  the  queen  and  the  count- 
ess were  to  obtain  tiie  necklace,  and,  by  selling 
it  piecemeal,   to  share  the  spoil,  leaving  the 
cardinal  responsible  for  the  payment.      This 
was  the  view  the  enemies  of  Maria  Antoinette, 
almost  without  exception,  took  of  the  case ;  and 
the  sentence  of  acquittal  of  the  cardinal,  and 
the  horrible  condemnation  of  the  countess,  were 
intended  to  sustain  this  view.     This  opinion, 
spread  through  Paris  and  France,  was  very  in- 
fluential in  rousing  that  animosity  which  con- 
ducted  Maria  Antoinette  to  sufferings  more 
poignant  and  to  a  doom  more  awful  than  the 
Countess    Lamotte    could    by   any  possibility 
endure. 

2.  The  second  supposition  was,  that  the  car- 
dinal and  the  countess  forged  the  signature  of 
the  queen  to  defraud  the  jeweler  ;    that  they 
thus  obtained  the  rich  prize  of  three  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  dollars,  intending  to  di- 
vide the  spoil  between  them,  and  throw  the  ob- 

joquy  of  the  transaction  upon  the  queen.     The 
Jl— 9 


MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [17SG. 


Vhe  third  •uppocition.  Probably  the  true  on* 

king  and  queen  were  both  fully  convinced  that 
this  was  the  true  explanation  of  the  fraud,  and 
they  retained  this  belief  undoubted  until  the}1 
died. 

3.  .The  third  supposition,  and  that  whieh 
now  is  almost  universally  entertained,  was, 
that  the  crafty  woman  Lamotte,  by  forgery, 
and  by  means  of  an  accomplice,  who  very 
much,  in  figure,  resembled  Maria  Antoinette, 
completely  duped  the  cardinal.  His  anxiety 
was  such  to  be  restored  to  the  royal  favor,  that 
he  eagerly  caught  at  the  bait  which  the  wily 
countess  presented  to  him.  But,  whoever  may 
have  been  the  guilty  ones,  no  one  now  doubts 
that  Maria  Antoinette  was  entirely  innocent. 
She,  however,  experienced  all  the  ignominy  she 
could  have  encountered  had  she  been  involved 
in  the  deepest  guilt 


17«y.j   THE   MOB   AT    VERSAILLES.        131 

4  fathering  rturm.  C<  >u-  tia.  <u  ut  the  French  poopk* 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  MOB  AT  VERSAILLES. 

fflHE  year  1789  opened  upon  France  lower- 
L  ing  with  darkness  and  portentous  storms. 
The  events  to  which  we  have  alluded  in  the 
preceding  chapters,  and  various  others  of  a  sim- 
ilar nature,  conspired  to  foment  troubles  be- 
tween the  French  monarch  and  his  subjects, 
which  were  steadily  and  irresistibly  increasing. 
The  great  mass  of  the  people,  ignorant,  degrad- 
ed, and  maddened  by  centuries  of  oppression, 
were  rising,  with  delirious  energy,  to  batter 
down  a  corrupt  church  and  a  despotic  throne, 
and  to  overwhelm  the  guilty  and  the  innocent 
alike  in  indiscriminate  ruin.  The  storm  had 
been  gathering  for  ages,  but  those  who  had  been 
mainly  instrumental  in  raising  it  were  now 
slumbering  in  their  graves.  Mobs  begpn  to 
sweep  the  streets  of  Paris,  phrensied  with  rum 
and  rage,  and  all  law  was  set  at  defiance.  The 
king,  mild  in  temperament,  and  with  no  force 
of  character,  was  extremely  averse  to  any  meas- 
ures of  violence  The  queen,  far  more  onerget- 


.132  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1789 

Force*  assembled  at  Versailles.          The  populace  rise  upon  the  troop* 

io,  with  the  spirit  of  her  heroic  mother,  would 
have  quelled  these  insurrections  with  the  strong 
arm.  of  military  power. 

The  king  at  last  was  compelled,  in  order  to 
protect  the  royal  family  from  insult,  to  encamp 
his  army  around  his  palaces ;  and  long  trains 
of  artillery  and  of  cavalry  incessantly  traversed 
the  streets  of  Versailles,  to  prop  the  tottering 
monarchy.  As  Maria  Antoinette,  from  the 
windows,  looked  down  upon  these  formidable 
bands,  and  saw  the  crowd  of  generals  and  col 
onels  who  filled  the  saloons  of  the  palace,  her 
fainting  courage  was  revived.  The  sight  of 
these  soldiers,  called  to  quell  the  insurgent  peo- 
ple, roused  the  Parisians  to  the  intensest  fury 
"  To  arms !  to  arms  !  the  king's  troops  are  com- 
ing to  massacre  us,"  resounded  through  the 
streets  of  Paris  in  the  gloom  of  night,  in  tones 
which  caused  the  heart  of  every  peaceful  citi- 
zen to  quake  with  terror.  The  infuriated  pop- 
ulace hurled  themselves  upon  the  few  troops 
who  were  in  Paris.  Many  of  the  soldiers  of  the 
king  threw  down  their  arms  and  fraternized 
with  the  people.  Others  were  withdrawn,  by 
order  of  Louis,  to  add  to  the  forces  which  were 
surrounding  his  person  at  Versailles.  Paria 
thus  left  at  the  rneroy  of  the  mob.  Th* 


1789.J  THE   MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.        13d 

Terror  and  confusion.  Attack  on  the  Bastile 

arsenals  were  ransacked,  the  powder  maga- 
zines were  broken  open,  pikes  were  forged, 
and  in  a  day,  as  it  were,  ail  Paris  was  in  arms 
Thousand*  of  the  noble  and  the  wealthy  fled  in 
consternation  from  these  scenes  of  ever-accumu- 
lating peril,  and  bands  of  ferocious  men  and 
women,  from  all  the  abodes  of  infamy,  with  the 
aspect  and  the  energy  of  demons,  ravaged  the 
*treets. 

When  the  morning  of  the  14th  of  March, 
1789,  dawned  upon  the  city,  a  scene  of  terror 
and  confusion  was  witnessed  which  baffles  all 
description.  In  the  heart  of  Paris  there  was  a 
prison  of  terrible  celebrity,  in  whose  dark  dun- 
geons many  victims  of  oppression  and  crime  had 
perished.  The  Bastile,  in  its  gloomy  strength 
of  rock  and  iron,  was  the  great  instrument  of 
terror  with  which  the  kings  of  France  had,  for 
centuries,  held  all  restless  spirits  in  subjection. 
Now,  the  whole  population  of  Paris  seemed  *o 
be  rolling  like  an  inundation  toward  thi?  appa- 
rently impregnable  fortress,  resolved  to  battei 
down  its  execrated  walls.  "  To  the  Bastile ! 
to  the  Bastile !"  was  the  cry  which  resounded 
along  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  through  every 
street  of  the  insurgent  metropolis;  and  men, 
women,  and  boys  poured  on  and  poured  on,  ao 


136  MARIA  ANTOINETTE          [1789 

Tk«  Buttle  taken.  Awftal  minurt. 

Interminable  host,  choking  every  avenue  with 
the  agitated  mass,  armed  with  guns,  knives, 
swords,  pikes— dragging  artillery  bestrode  by 
amazons,  and  filling  the  air  with  the  clamor  cf 
Pandemonium.  A  conflict,  fierce,  short,  bloody, 
ensued,  and  the  exasperated  multitude,  many 
of  them  bleeding  and  maddened  by  wounds, 
clambered  over  the  walls  and  rushed  through 
the  shattered  gateways,  and,  with  yells  of  tri- 
umph, became  masters  of  the  Bastile.  The 
heads  of  its  defenders  were  stuck  upon  poles 
upon  the  battlements,  and  the  mob,  intoxicated 
with  the  discovery  of  their  resistless  power,  were 
beginning  to  inquire  in  what  scenes  of  violence 
they  should  next  engage.  At  midnight,  cour- 
iers arrived  at  Versailles,  informing  the  king 
and  queen  of  the  terrible  insurrections  triumph- 
ant in  the  capital,  and  that  the  royal  troops 
every  where,  instead  of  being  enthusiastic  for 
the  defense  of  the  king,  manifested  the  strong- 
est disposition  to  fraternize  with  the  populace 
The  tumult  in  Paris  that  night  was  awful 
The  rumor  had  entered  every  ear  that  the  king 
was  coming  with  forty  thousand  troops  to  take 
dreadful  vengeance  in  the  indiscriminate  mas- 
sacre of  the  populace.  It  was  a  night  of  sleep- 
lessness and  terror — the  carnival  of  all  the  mon 


1789.]  THE  MOB  AT   VERSAILLES.       137 

Energy  of  the  fttaea.  Resolution  of  the  kin* 

sters  of  crime  who  thronged  that  depraved  me- 
tropolis. The  streets  were  filled  with  intoxica- 
tion and  blasphemy.  No  dwelling  was  secnre 
from  pillage.  The  streets  were  barricaded, 
pavements  torn  up,  and  the  roofs  of  houses  load- 
ed with  the  stones. 

All  the  energies  of  the  queen  were  aroused 
for  a  vigorous  and  heroic  resistance.  She  strove 
to  inspire  the  king  with  firmness  and  courage. 
He,  however,  thought  only  of  concessions.  He 
wished  to  win  back  the  love  of  his  people  by 
favors.  He  declared  openly  that  never  should 
one  drop  of  blood  be  shed  at  his  command ;  and, 
with  the  heroism  of  endurance,  which  he  abund- 
antly possessed,  and  to  prove  that  he  had  been 
grossly  calumniated,  he  left  Versailles  in  his 
carriage  to  go  unprotected  to  Paris,  into  the 
midst  of  the  infuriated  populace.  Just  as  he 
was  entering  his  carriage  on  this  dangerous  ex- 
pedition, he  received  intelligence  that  a  plot  wa* 
formed  to  assassinate  him  on  the  way.  This, 
however,  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  shake 
bis  resolution.  The  agony  of  the  queen  was  irre- 
pressible  as  she  bade  him  adieu,  never  expecting 
to  see  him  again. 

The  National  Assembly,  consisting  of  near!} 
twelve  hundred  persons,  was  then  in  session  at 


138  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1789 

nti  king  TUriU  Paris.  Strange  cavalcade 

Versailles,  the  great  majority  of  them  sympa- 
thizing with  the  populace,  and  yet  were  alarmed 
in  view  of  the  lawless  violence  which  their  own 
acts  had  awakened,  and  which  was  every  where 
desolating  the  land.  As,  on  the  morning  of  the 
17th  of  July,  the  king  entered  his  carriage  with 
a  slender  retinue,  and  with  no  military  protec- 
tion, to  expose  himself  to  the  dangers  of  his  tu- 
multuous capital,  this  whole  body  formed  in  pro- 
cession on  foot  and  followed  him.  A  countless 
throng  of  artisans  and  peasants  flocked  from  all 
the  streets  of  Versailles,  and  poured  in  from  the 
surrounding  country,  armed  with  scythes  and 
bludgeons,  and  joined  the  strange  cavalcade. 
Every  moment  the  multitude  increased,  and  the 
road,  both  before  and  behind  the  king,  was  so 
clogged  with  the  accumulating  mass,  that  seven 
hours  passed  before  the  king  arrived  at  the  gates 
of  the  city.  During  all  this  time  he  was  ex- 
posed to  overy  conceivable  insult.  As  Louis 
was  oond acted  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  a  hundred 
thousand  armed  men  lined  the  way,  and  he 
passed  along  under  the  arch  of  their  sabers 
orossed  over  his  head.  The  cup  of  degradation 
h«  was  compelled  to  drain  to  its  dregs. 

While  the  king  was  absent  from  Versailles 
on  this  dreadful  visit,  silence  and  the  deepest 


1789.]  THE   MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.       139 

Painful  rusppnae  of  the  queen.  Return  of  the  klnj 

gloom  pervaded  the  palace.  The  queen,  appre- 
hensive that  the  king  would  be  either  massacred 
or  retained  a  prisoner  in  Paris,  was  overwhelm- 
ed with  the  anguish  of  suspense.  She  retired 
to  her  chamber,  and,  with  continually  gushing 
tears,  prepared  an  appeal  to  the  National  As- 
sembly, commencing  with  these  words :  "  Gen- 
tlemen, I  come  to  place  in  your  hands  the  wife 
and  family  of  your  sovereign.  Do  not  suffer 
those  who  have  been  united  in  heaven  to  be 
put  asunder  on  earth."  Late  in  the  evening 
the  king  returned,  to  the  inexpressible  joy  of  his 
household.  But  the  narrative  he  gave  of  the 
day's  adventure  plunged  them  all  again  into  the 
most  profound  grief. 

The  visit  of  the  king  had  no  influence  in  di- 
minishing the  horrors  of  the  scenes  now  hourly 
enacted  in  the  French  capital.  His  friends 
were  openly  massacred  in  the  streets,  hung  up 
at  the  lamp-posts,  and  roasted  at  slow  fires, 
while  their  dying  agonies  were  but  the  subjects 
of  derision.  The  contagion  of  crime  and  cruelty 
spread  to  every  other  city  in  the  empire.  The 
higher  nobility  and  the  more  wealthy  citizens 
began  very  generally  to  abandon  their  homes, 
seeing  no  escape  from  these  dangers  but  by  pre- 
cipitate  flight  to  foreign  lands.  Such  was  the 


140  MARIA   ANTOINETTE. 

The  banquet  at  Versailles.  Enthusiastic  loyalty 

state  of  affairs,  when  the  officers  of  some  of  the 
regiments  assembled  at  Versailles  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  king  had  a  public  banquet  in  the 
saloon  of  the  opera.  All  the  rank  and  elegance 
which  had  ventured  yet  to  linger  around  the 
court  graced  the  feast  with  their  presence  in 
the  surrounding  boxes.  In  the  midst  of  their 
festivities,  their  chivalrous  enthusiasm  was  ex- 
cited in  behalf  of  the  king  and  queen.  They 
drank  their  health — they  vowed  to  defend  them 
even  unto  death.  Wine  had  given  fervor  to 
their  loyalty.  The  ladies  showered  upon  them 
bouquets,  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  tossed 
to  them  white  cockades,  the  emblem  of  Bourbon 
power.  And  now  the  cry  arose,  loud,  and  long, 
and  enthusiastic,  for  the  king  and  queen  to  come 
and  show  themselves  to  their  defenders.  The 
door  suddenly  opened,  and  the  king  and  queen 
appeared.  Enthusiasm  immediately  rose  al- 
most to  phrensy.  The  hall  resounded  with  ac- 
clamations, and  the  king,  entirely  unmanned  by 
these  expressions  of  attachment,  burst  into  tears. 
The  band  struck  up  the  pathetic  air,  "O  Rich- 
ard !  O  my  king !  the  world  abandons  you." 
There  was  no  longer  any  bounds  to  the  trans- 
port. The  officers  and  the  ladies  mingled  to- 
gather  in  a  scene  of  in  iesoribable  enthusiasm 


1789.)  THE   MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.       141 

B«w*  of  the  hivixjaet  Famine  In  PtrU 

The  tidings  of  this  banquet  spread  like  wild- 
fire through  Paris,  magnified  by  the  grossest 
exaggerations.  It  was  universally  believed  that 
the  officers  had  contemptuously  trampled  the 
tri-colored  cockade,  the  adopted  emblem  of  pop- 
ular power,  under  their  feet;  that  they  had 
sharpened  their  sabers,  and  sworn  to  extermi- 
nate the  National  Assembly  and  the  people  of 
Paris.  All  business  was  at  a  stand.  No  laborer 
was  employed.  The  provisions  in  the  city  were 
nearly  all  consumed.  No  bake*  dared  to  ap- 
pear with  his  cart,  or  farmer  to  send  in  his  corn, 
for  pillage  was  the  order  of  the  day.  The  ex- 
asperated and  starving  people  hung  a  few  bakers 
before  their  own  ovens,  but  that  did  not  make 
bread  any  more  plenty.  The  populace  of  Paris 
were  now  starving,  literally  and  truly  starving. 
A  gaunt  and  haggard  woman  seized  a  drum  and 
strode  through  the  streets,  beating  it  violently, 
and  mingling  with  its  din  her  shrieks  of  "  Bread ! 
bread !"  A  few  boys  follow  her — then  a  score 
of  female  furies — and  then  thousands  of  de«per« 
ate  men.  The  swelling  inundation  rolls  from 
ftreet  to  street;  the  alarm  bells  are  rung;  all 
Paris  composes  one  mighty,  resistless  mob,  mo- 
tiveless, aimless,  but  ripe  for  any  deed  of  des- 
peration The  ory  g>*»  from  month  to  mouth 


142  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1789 

The  mob  marches  to  Versailles.  Hnroic  reply  of  the  qneea 

"To  Versailles!  to  Versailles  1"  Why,  no  one 
knows,  only  that  the  king  and  queen  are  there. 
Impetuously,  as  by  a  blind  instinct,  the  monster 
mass  moves  on.  La  Fayette,  at  the  head  of 
the  National  Guard,  knows  not  what  to  do,  for 
aU  the  troops  under  his  command  sympathize 
with  the  people,  and  will  obey  no  orders  to  re- 
sist them.  He  therefore  merely  follows  on  with 
his  thirty-five  thousand  troops  to  watch  the  is- 
sue of  events.  The  king  and  queen  are  warned 
of  the  approaching  danger,  and  Louis  entreats 
Maria  Antoinette  to  take  the  children  in  the 
carriages  and  flee  to  some  distant  place  of  safety. 
Others  join  most  earnestly  in  the  entreaty. 
"  Nothing,"  replies  the  queen,  "  shall  induce 
me,  in  such  an  extremity,  to  be  separated  from 
my  husband.  I  know  that  they  seek  my  life 
But  I  am  the  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  and 
have  learned  not  to  fear  death." 

From  the  windows  of  their  mansion  the  dis 
orderly  multitude  were  soon  descried,  in  t 
dense  and  apparently  interminable  mass,  pom- 
ing  along  through  the  broad  avenues  toward  the 
palaces  of  Versailles.  It  was  in  the  evening 
twilight  of  a  dark  and  rainy  day.  Like  ocean 
tides,  the  frantic  mob  rolled  in  from  every  direc- 
tion. Their  shouts  and  revels  swelled  upon  tht 


1789.]  THE   MOB   AT   VERSAILLES. 

Violence  of  th«  mob.  The  qnera  retire*  IB  re* 

night  air.  The  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents. 
They  broke  into  the  houses  for  shelter  ;  insulted 
maids  and  matrons ;  tore  down,every  thing  com- 
bustible  for  their  watch  fires ;  massacred  a  few 
ol  the  body  guard  of  the  queen,  and,  with  bac- 
chanalian songs,  roasted  their  horses  for  food. 
And  thus  passed  the  hours  of  this  long  and 
dreary  night,  in  hideous  outrages  for  which  one 
can  hardly  find  a  parallel  in  the  annals  of  New 
Zealand  cannibalism.  The  immense  gardens 
of  Versailles  were  filled  with  a  tumultuous  ocean 
of  half-frantic  men  and  women,  tossed  to  and 
fro  in  the  wildest  and  most  reckless  excitement. 
Toward  morning,  the  queen,  worn  out  with 
excitement  and  sleeplessness,  having  received 
from  La  Fayette  the  assurance  that  he  had  so 
posted  the  guard  that  she  need  be  in  no  appre- 
hension of  personal  danger,  had  retired  to  her 
chamber  for  rest.  The  king  had  also  retired  to 
his  apartment,  which  was  connected  with  that 
of  the  queen  by  a  hall,  through  which  they 
could  mutually  pass.  Two  faithful  soldiers 
were  stationed  at  the  door  of  the  queen's  cham- 
ber for  her  defense.  Hardly  had  the  queen 
placed  her  head  upon  her  pillow  before  she 
heard  a  dreadful  clamor  upon  the  stairs — the 

discharge  of  fire-arms,  the  clashing  of  swords, 
11—10 


146  MARIA  ANTOINETTE. 

Per&  of  the  queen.  Her  narrow  accapi 

ind  the  ghouts  of  the  mob  rushing  upon  her 
door.  The  faithful  guard,  bleeding  beneath  the 
blows  of  the  assailants,  had  only  time  to  cry 
to  the  queen,  "  Fly !  fly  for  your  life !"  when 
they  were  stricken  down.  The  queen  sprang 
from  her  bed,  rushed  to  the  door  leading  to  the 
king's  apartments,  when,  to  her  dismay,  she 
found  that  it  was  locked,  and  that  the  key  was 
upon  the  other  side.  With  the  energy  of  de- 
spair, she  knocked  and  called  for  help.  Fortu 
nately,  some  one  rushed  to  her  rescue  from  the 
king's  chamber  and  opened  the  door.  The 
queen  had  just  time  to  slip  through  and  again 
turn  the  key,  when  the  whole  raging  mob,  with 
oaths  and  imprecations,  burst  into  the  room,  and 
pierced  her  bed  through  and  through  with  their 
sabers  and  bayonets.  Happy  would  it  have 
been  for  Maria  if  in  that  short  agony  she  might 
have  died.  But  she  was  reserved  by  a  myste- 
rious Providence  for  more  prolonged  tortures  and 
for  a  more  dreadful  doom. 

A  few  of  the  National  Guard,  faithful  to  the 
king,  rallied  around  the  royal  family,  and  La 
Fayette  soon  appeared,  and  was  barely  able  to 
protect  the  king  and  queen  from  massacre.  He 
had  no  power  to  effectually  resist  the  tempest 
ef  human  p'assnn  which  was  raging,  but  was 


1789]  THE   MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.        147 


The  mob  in  the  palace.  Heroic  condwt  of  the 

swept  along  by  its  violence.  Nearly  all  of  the 
interior  of  tne  palace  was  ransacked  and  defiled 
by  the  mob.  The  bloody  heads  of  the  massa- 
cred guards,  stuck  upon  pikes,  were  raised  up 
to  the  windows  of  the  king,  to  insult  and  to  ter- 
rify the  royal  family  with  these  hideous  trophies 
irf  the  triumph  of  their  foes. 

At  length  the  morning  succeeding  this  dread- 
ful night  dawned  lurid  and  cheerless.  It  was 
the  8th  of  October,  1789.  Dark  clouds  over- 
shadowed the  sky,  showers  of  mist  were  driven 
through  the  air,  and  the  branches  of  the  trees 
swayed  to  and  fro  before  the  driving  storm. 
Pools  of  water  filled  the  streets,  and  a  countless 
multitude  of  drunken  vagabonds,  in  a  mass  so 
dense  as  to  be  almost  impervious,  besieged  the 
palace,  having  no  definite  plan  or  desire,  only 
furious  with  the  thought  that  now  was  the  hour 
in  which  they  could  wreak  vengeance  upon 
aristocrats  for  ages  of  oppression.  Muskets 
were  continually  discharged  by  the  more  des- 
perate, and  bullets  passed  through  the  windows 
cf  the  palace.  Maria  Antoinette,  in  these  try- 
rng  scenes,  indeed  appeared  queenly.  Her  oon- 
t'uct  was  heroic  in  the  extreme.  Her  soul  was 
nerved  to  the  very  highest  acts  of  feailessnesa 
and  magnanimity.  Seeing  the  mob  in  the  court. 


148  MARIA  ANTOINETTE  [1789 

Hie  queen  appear*  on  the  balcony.  Her  composure 

yard  below  ready  to  tear  in  pieces  some  of  hei 
faithful  guard  whom  they  had  captured,  regard- 
less of  the  shots  which  were  whistling  by  her, 
she  persisted  in  exposing  herself  at  the  open 
window  to  beg  for  their  lives;  and  when  a 
friend,  M.  Luzerne,  placed  himself  before  her, 
that  his  body  might  be  her  shield  from  the  bul- 
lets, she  gently,  but  firmly,  with  her  hand,  press- 
ed him  away,  saying,  "  The  king  can  not  afford 
to  lose  so  faithful  a  servant  as  you  are." 

At  length  the  crowd  began  vigorously  to  shout, 
"  The  queen !  the  queen !"  demanding  that  she 
should  appear  upon  the  balcony.  She  immedi- 
ately came  forth,  with  her  children  at  her  side, 
that,  as  a  mother,  she  might  appeal  to  their 
hearts.  The  sight  moved  the  sympathies  of 
the  multitude ;  and  execrating,  as  they  did,  Ma- 
ria Antoinette,  whom  they  had  long  been  taught 
to  hate,  they  could  not  have  the  heart,  in  cold 
blood,  to  massacre  these  innocent  children. 
Thousands  of  voices  simultaneously  shouted, 
"  Away  with  the  children !"  Maria,  apparently 
without  the  tremor  of  a  nerve,  led  back  her 
children,  and  again  appearing  upon  the  balcony 
alone,  folded  her  arms,  and,  raising  her  eyes  to 
heaven,  stood  before  them,  a  self-devoted  viotinL 
The  heroism  of  the  act  changed  for  a  moxneni 


1789.J  THE  MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.        149 

The  qusen  applauded.  The  royal  IkmOy  tataa  to  Part*. 

hatred  to  admiration.  Not  a  gun  was  fired ; 
there  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  one 
spontaneous  burst  of  applause  rose  apparently 
from  every  lip,  and  shouts  of  "Vive  la  reine! 
vive  la  reine !'?  pierced  the  skies. 

And  now  the  universal  cry  ascends,  "  To 
Paris !  to  Paris  !"  La  Fayette,  with  the  deep- 
est mortification,  was  compelled  to  inform  the 
king  that  he  had  no  force  at  his  disposal  suffi- 
cient to  enable  him  to  resist  the  demands  of  the 
mob.  The  king,  seeing  that  he  was  entirely  at 
the  mercy  of  his  foes,  who  were  acting  without 
leaders  and  without  plan,  as  the  caprice  of  each 
passing  moment  instigated,  said,  "You  wish, 
my  children,  that  I  should  accompany  you  to 
Paris.  I  can  not  go  but  on  condition  that  I 
shall  not  be  separated  from  my  wife  and  family." 
To  this  proposal  there  was  a  tumultuous  assent. 
At  one  o'clock,  the  king  and  queen,  with  their 
two  children,  entered  the  royal  carriage  to  be 
escorted  by  the  triumphant  mob  as  captives  to 
Paris.  Behind  them,  in  a  long  train,  followed 
the  carriages  of  the  king's  suite  and  servants. 
Then  followed  twenty-five  carriages  filled  with 
the  members  of  the  National  Assembly.  After 
them  came  the  thirty-five  thousand  troops  of  the 
National  Guard ;  and  before,  behind,  and  around 


150  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

An  army  of  vagabonds.  The  royal  family  growly  truuftnd 

them  all,  a  hideous  concourse  of  vagabonds, 
male  and  female,  in  uncounted  thousands,  arm- 
ed with  every  conceivable  weapon,  yelling,  blas- 
pheming, and  crowding  against  the  carriages 
so  that  they  surged  to  and  fro  like  ships  in  • 
storm.  This  motley  multitude  kept  up  an  in- 
cessant discharge  of  fire-arms  loaded  with  bul- 
lets, and  the  balls  often  struck  the  ornaments  of 
the  carriages,  and  the  king  and  queen  were  oft- 
en almost  suffocated  with  the  smoke  of  *iowder. 
The  two  body  guard,  who  had  been  massa- 
cred while  so  faithfully  defending  the  queen  at 
the  door  of  her  chamber,  were  beheaded,  and, 
their  gory  heads  affixed  to  pikes,  were  carried 
by  the  windows  of  the  carriage,  and  pressed  upon 
the  view  of  the  wretched  captives  with  every 
species  of  insult  and  derision.  La  Fayette  was 
powerless.  He  was  borne  along  resistlessly  by 
this  whirlwind  of  human  passions.  None  were 
so  malignant,  so  ferocious,  so  merciless,  as  the 
degraded  women  who  mingled  with  the  throng 
They  bestrode  the  cannon  singing  the  most  in 
decent  and  insulting  songs.  "  We  shall  now 
have  bread,"  they  exclaimed ;  "  for  we  havr 
with  us  the  baker,  and  the  baker's  wife,  and 
the  baker's  boy."  During  seven  long  hours  01 
agony  were  the  royal  family  exposed  to  thes* 


1789.)  THE  MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.        153 

The  rojal  funlly  in  the  Tuilerie*.          The  quAen'i  •o!f-»acrlfictof  «pirh 

insults,  before  the  unwieldy  mass  had  urged  its 
slow  way  to  Paris  The  darkness  of  night  waa 
settling  down  around  the  city  as  the  royal  cap- 
tives were  led  into  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  No  one 
seemed  then  to  know  what  to  do,  or  why  the 
icing  and  queen  had  been  brought  from  Ver- 
eailles.  The  mayor  of  the  city  received  them 
there  with  the  external  mockery  of  respect  and 
homage.  He  had  them  then  conducted  to  the 
Tui  lories,  the  gorgeous  city  palace  of  the  kings 
of  France,  now  the  prison  of  the  royal  family. 
Soldiers  were  stationed  at  all  the  avenues  to 
the  palace,  ostensibly  to  preserve  the  royal  fam- 
ily from  danger,  but,  in  reality,  to  guard  them 
from  escape. 

A  moment  before  the  queen  entered  her  car- 
riage  for  this  march  of  humiliation,  she  hastily 
retired  to  her  private  apartment,  and,  bursting 
into  tears,  surrendered  herself  to  the  most  un- 
controllable emotion.  Then  immediately,  as  if 
relieved  and  strengthened  by  this  flocx^  of  tears, 
ihe  summoned  all  her  energies,  and  appeared 
ts  she  had  ever  appeared,  the  invincible  sover 
eign.  Indeed,  through  all  these  dreadful  scenes 
the  never  seemed  to  have  a  thought  for  herself. 
It  was  for  her  husband  and  her  children  alone 
that  she  wept  and  suffered.  Through  all  the 


154  MARIA  ANTOINETTE. 

Rioting  «nd  violence  The  daaphin'«  question. 

long  hours  af  the  night  succeeding  this  day  of 
horror,  Paris  was  one  boiling  caldron  of  tumult 
and  passion.  Rioting  and  violence  filled  all  ita 
streets,  and  the  clamor  of  madness  and  inebri- 
ation drove  sleep  from  every  pillow.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  day  had  been  too  terrible  to  al- 
low either  the  king  or  the  queen  to  attempt  re- 
pose. The  two  children,  in  utter  exhaustion, 
found  a  few  hours  of  agitated  slumber  from  the 
terror  with  which  they  had  so  long  been  ap- 
palled. But  in  the  morning,  when  the  dauphin 
awoke,  being  but  six  or  eight  years  of  age,  hear- 
ing the  report  of  musketry  and  the  turmoil  still 
resounding  in  the  streets,  he  threw  his  arms 
around  his  mother's  neck,  and,  as  he  clung 
trembling  to  her  bosom,  exclaimed,  "  O  mother ! 
mother !  is  to-day  yesterday  again  ?"  Soon  aft- 
er, his  father  came  into  the  room.  The  little 
prince,  to  whom  sorrow  had  given  a  maturity 
above  his  years,  contemplated  his  father  for  a 
moment  with  a  pensive  air,  went  up  to  him  and 
said,  "  Dear  father,  why  are  your  people,  who 
formerly  loved  you  so  well,  now,  all  of  &  sudden 
so  angry  with  you  ?  And  what  have  you  doiM 
to  irritate  them  so  much  ?" 

The  king  thus  replied.     "  I  wished,  my  deal 
child,  to  render  the  people  still  happier  than 


1789.]  THE   MOB   AT  VERSAILLES.       157 

Tba  king'!  explanation  to  hi«  ton.  Flight  of  the  nobility 

they  were.  I  wanted  money  to  pay  the  ex- 
penses occasioned  by  ware.  I  asked  the  Par- 
liament for  money,  as  my  predecessors  have 
always  done.  Magistrates  composing  the  Par- 
liament opposed  it,  and  said  that  the  people 
alone  had  a  right  to  consent  to  it.  I  assembled 
the  principal  inhabitants  of  every  town,  whether 
distinguished  by  birth,  fortune,  or  talents,  at 
Versailles.  That  is  what  is  called  the  States- 
General,  When  they  were  assembled,  they  re- 
quired  concessions  of  me  which  I  could  not  make, 
either  with  due  respect  for  myself  or  with  justice 
to  you,  who  will  be  my  successor.  Wicked  men, 
inducing  the  people  to  rise,  have  occasioned  the 
excesses  of  the  last  few  days.  The  people  must 
aot  be  blamed  for  them." 

While  these  terrific  scenes  were  passing  in 
Paris  and  in  France,  the  majority  of  the  nobility 
were  rapidly  emigrating  to  find  refuge  in  other 
lands.  Every  night  the  horizon  was  illumined 
by  the  conflagration  of  their  chateaux,  burned 
down  by  mobs.  Many  of  them  were  mercilessly 
tortured  to  death.  Large  numbers,  however, 
gathering  around  them  such  treasures  as  could 
easily  be  carried  away,  escaped  to  Germany  on 
the  frontiers  of  France.  Some  fifteen  hundred 
of  these  emigrants  were  at  Coblentz,  organizing 


158  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1789. 

Inflammatory  placard*.  The  Duke  of  Orlean* 

themselves  into  a  military  band,  seeking  assist- 
ance from  the  Austrian  monarchy,  and  threat- 
ening, with  an  overwhelming  force  of  invasion, 
to  recover  their  homes  and  their  confiscated  es- 
tates, and  to  rescue  the  royal  family.  The  pop- 
ulace in  Paris  were  continually  agitated  with 
the  rumors  of  this  gathering  army  at  Coblentz. 
As  Maria  was  an  Austrian,  she  was  accused  of 
being  in  correspondence  with  the  emigrants,  and 
of  striving  to  rouse  the  Austrian  monarchy  to 
make  war  upon  France,  and  to  deluge  Paris 
with  the  blood  of  its  citizens.  Most  inflam- 
matory placards  were  posted  in  the  streets. 
Speeches  full  of  rancor  and  falsehood  were  made 
to  exasperate  the  populace.  And  when  the  fish- 
women  wished  to  cast  upon  the  queen  some  ep- 
ithet of  peculiar  bitterness,  they  called  her  "  The 
Austrian." 

It  is  confidently  asserted  that  the  mob  was 
instigated  to  the  march  to  Versailles  by  the 
emissaries  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  father  of 
Louis  Philippe.  The  duke  hoped  that  the  royal 
family,  terrified  by  the  approach  of  the  infuri- 
ated multitude,  would  enter  their  carriages  and 
flee  to  join  the  emigrants  at  Coblentz.  The 
throne  would  then  be  vacant,  and  the  people 
would  make  ths  Duke  of  Orleans,  who,  to  se- 


17S9.J   THE   MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.       159 

fn«  Duke  of  Oriean'i  plans  frustrated.  Ramon  of  an  in v wlon. 

sure  this  result,  had  become  one  of  the  rncst 
violent  of  the  Democrats,  their  king.  It  was 
a  deeply-laid  plot  and  a  very  plausible  enter- 
prise But  the  king  understood  the  plan,  and 
refused  thus  to  be  driven  from  the  throne  of 
his  fathers.  He,  however,  entreated  the  queen 
to  take  the  children  and  escape.  She  resolute- 
ly declared  that  no  peril  should  induce  her  to 
forsake  her  husband,  but  that  she  would  live 
or  die  by  his  side.  During  all  the  horrors  of 
that  dreadful  night,  when  the  palace  at  Ver- 
sailles was  sacked,  the  duke,  in  disguise,  with 
his  adherents,  was  endeavoring  to  direct  the 
fury  of  the  storm  for  the  accomplishment  of 
this  purpose.  But  his  plans  were  entirely 
frustrated.  The  caprice  seized  the  mob  to 
carry  the  king  to  Paris.  This  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  of  all  things  dreaded ;  but  matters  had 
now  passed  entirely  beyond  his  control.  Ru- 
mors of  the  approaching  invasion  were  filling 
the  kingdom  with  alarm.  There  was  a  large 
minority,  consisting  of  the  most  intelligent  and 
wealthy,  who  were  in  favor  of  the  king,  and 
who  would  eagerly  join  an  army  coming  foi 
his  rescue.  Should  the  king  escape  and  head 
that  army,  it  would  give  the  invaders  a  vast 
accession  of  moral  strength,  and  the  insurgent 


160  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

The  leaden  of  the  populace.        The  queen  urged  to  attend  the  theater 

people  feared  a  dreadful  vengeance.  Conse- 
quently, there  were  great  apprehensions  enter- 
tained that  the  king  might  escape.  The  lead- 
era  of  the  populace  were  not  yet  prepared  to 
plunge  him  into  prison  or  to  load  him  with 
chains.  In  fact,  they  had  no  definite  plan  be- 
fore them.  He  was  still  their  recognized  king. 
They  even  pretended  that  he  was  not  their  cap- 
tive— that  they  had  politely,  affectionately  invi  • 
ted  him,  escorted  him  on  a  visit  to  his  capital. 
They  entreated  the  king  and  queen  to  show  that 
they  had  no  desire  to  escape,  but  were  contented 
and  happy,  by  entering  into  all  the  amusement* 
of  operas,  and  theaters,  and  balls.  But  in  the 
mean  time  they  doubled  the  guards  around 
them,  and  drove  away  their  faithful  servants, 
to  place  others  at  their  tables  and  in  theiv 
chambers  who  should  be  their  spies. 

But  two  days  after  these  horrid  outrages,  in 
the  midst  of  which  the  king  and  queen  were 
dragged  as  captives  to  Paris,  the  city  sent  a 
deputation  to  request  the  queen  to  appear  at 
the  theater,  and  thus  to  prove,  by  participating 
in  those  gay  festivities,  that  it  was  with  pleas- 
ure that  she  resided  in  her  capital.  With  much 
dignity  the  queen  replied,  "  I  should,  with  great 
pleasure,  accede  to  the  invitation  of  the  peopU 


1789.)    THE   MOB   AT  VERSAILLES.        16] 

Dignified  reply  of  the  queen.  Her  unpopularity  Increase* 

of  Paris ;  but  time  must  be  allowed  me  to  soft- 
en the  recollection  of  the  distressing  events 
which  have  recently  occurred,  and  from  which 
I  have  suffered  so  severely.  Having  come  to 
Paris  preceded  by  the  heads  of  my  faithful 
guards,  who  perished  before  the  door  of  their 
sovereign,  I  can  not  think  that  such  an  entry 
into  the  capital  ought  to  be  followed  by  rejoic- 
ings. But  the  happiness  I  have  always  felt  in 
appearing  in  the  midst  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Paris  is  not  effaced  from  my  memory;  and  1 
hope  to  enjoy  that  happiness  again,  so  soon  as 
I  shall  find  myself  able  to  do  so." 

The  queen  was,  however,  increasingly  the 
object  of  especial  obloquy.  She  was  accused 
of  urging  the  king  to  bombard  the  city,  and  to 
adopt  other  most  vigorous  measures  of  resist- 
ance. It  was  affirmed  that  she  held  continual 
correspondence  with  the  emigrants  at  Coblentz, 
and  was  doing  all  in  her  power  to  rouse  Austria 
to  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  king.  Maria  would 
have  been  less  than  the  noble  woman  she  was 
if  she  had  not  done  all  this,  and  more,  for  tlie 
protection  of  her  husband,  her  child,  and  her- 
self. She  inherited  her  mother's  superiority  of 
mind  and  mental  energy.  Had  Louis  possessed 
her  spirit,  he  might  have  perished  more  heroic- 

11—11 


162  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

Fhe  queen's  rigorou*  action.  Ultimate  cauav  of  the  popular  fury 

ally,  but  probably  none  the  less  surely.  Maria 
did,  unquestionably,  do  every  thing  in  her  power 
to  rouse  her  husband  to  a  more  energetic  and 
manly  defense.  Generations  of  kings,  by  licen- 
tiousness, luxury,  and  oppression  ;  by  total  dis- 
regard of  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  by  the 
naughty  contempt  of  their  sufferings  and  com- 
plaints, had  kindled  flames  of  implacable  hatred 
against  all  kingly  power.  Circumstances,  over 
which  neither  Louis  nor  Maria  had  any  control, 
caused  these  flames  to  burst  out  with  resistless 
fury  around  the  throne  of  France,  at  the  timo 
in  which  they  happened  to  be  seated  upon  it. 
Though  there  never  had  been  seated  upon  that 
throne  more  upright,  benevolent,  and  conscien- 
tious monarchs,  they  were  Compelled  to  drain 
to  the  dregs  the  poisoned  chalice  which  their 
ancestors  had  mingled.  Perhaps  this  world  pre- 
sents no  more  affecting  illustration  of  that  mys- 
terious principle  of  the  divine  government,  by 
which  the  transgressions  of  the  parents  are 
visited  upon  the  children.  Louis  XIV.j  as 
haughty  and  oppressive  a  monarch  as  ever  tro*3 
an  enslaved  people  into  the  dust,  died  peace- 
fully in  his  luxurious  bed.  His  descendant] 
Louis  XVI.,  as  mild  and  benignant  a  sovereign 
as  ev«r  sat  upon  an  earthly  throne,  received 


1789.]   THE  MOB  AT  VERSAILLES.       163 

Transgressors  visited  In  their  children. 

upon  his  unresisting  brow  the  doom  from  whick 
his  unprincipled  ancestors  had  escaped.  It  is 
difficult  for  us,  in  the  sympathy  which  is  ex- 
cited  for  the  comparatively  innocent  Maria  An- 
toinette and  Louis,  to  remember  the  ages  of 
wrong  and  outrage  by  which  the  popular  exas- 
peration had  been  raised  to  wreak  itself  in  in- 
discriminating  atrocities.  There  is  but  one  so- 
lution to  these  mysteries :  "  After  death  comv* 
the  judgment." 


164  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

Condition  of  the  royal  family.  Ignomlniouily  Inratod 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  PALACE  A  PRISOH. 

fTIHE  king  and  queen  now  found  themselves 
-••  in  the  gorgeous  apartments  of  the  Tuileries, 
surrounded  with  all  the  mockery  of  external 
homage,  but  incessantly  exposed  to  the  most 
ignominious  insults,  and  guarded  with  sleepless 
vigilance  from  the  possibility  of  escape.  The 
name  of  the  queen  was  the  watchword  of  popu- 
lar execration  and  rage.  In  the  pride  of  her 
lofty  spirit,  she  spurned  all  apologies,  explana- 
tions, or  attempts  at  conciliation.  Inclosing 
herself  in  the  recesses  of  her  palace,  she  heard 
with  terror  and  resentment,  but  with  an  un- 
yielding soul,  the  daily  acts  of  violence  perpe- 
trated against  royalty  and  all  of  its  friends.  All 
her  trusty  servants  were  removed,  and  spies  in 
their  stead  occupied  her  parlors  and  her  onam- 
bers.  Trembling  far  more  for  her  husband  and 
her  children  than  for  herself,  every  noise  in  the 
streets  aroused  her  apprehensions  of  a  new  in- 
surrection. And  thus,  for  nearly  two  years  oC 
melancholy  days  and  sorrowful  nights,  the  ven 


1789.]      THE    PALACE  A  PRISON. 


nobleness  of  her  nature,  glowing  with  heroic  love, 
magnified  her  anguish.  The  terror  of  the  times 
had  driven  nearly  all  the  nobility  from  the  realm. 
The  court  was  forsaken,  or  attended  only  by 
the  detested  few  who  were  forced  as  ministers 
upon  the  royal  family  by  the  implacable  popu- 
lace. Every  word  and  every  action  of  Maria 
Antoinette  were  watched,  and  reported  by  the 
spies  who  surrounded  her  in  the  guise  of  serv- 
ants. To  obtain  a  private  interview  with  any 
of  her  few  remaining  friends,  or  even  with  hei 
husband,  it  was  necessary  to  avail  herself  of 
private  stair-cases,  and  dark  corridors,  and  the 
disguise  of  night.  The  queen  regretted  ex- 
tremely that  the  nobles,  and  others  friendly  to 
royalty,  should,  in  these  hours  of  gathering  dan- 
ger, have  fled  from  France.  When  urged  to 
fly  herself  from  the  dangers  darkening  around 
her,  she  resolutely  refused,  declaring  that  she 
would  never  leave  her  husband  and  children, 
but  that  she  would  live  or  die  with  them.  The 
queen,  convinced  of  the  impolicy  of  emigration, 
did  every  thing  in  her  power  to  induce  the  em 
igrants  to  return.  Urgent  letters  were  sent  to 
them,  to  one  of  which  the  queen  added  the  fol- 
lowing postscript  with  her  own  hand  :  "  If  yon 
lore  your  king,  your  religion,  your  government; 


166  MARIA  AMTOIVBTIB.         [1789 


Kxcnae  for  the  •ndfrvno.  Their  plan* 

and  your  country,  return !  return !  return f 
Maria  Antoinette."  The  emigrants  were  se- 
verely censured  by  many  for  abandoning  their 
king  and  country  in  such  a  crisis.  But  when 
all  law  was  overthrown,  and  the  raging  mob 
swayed  hither  and  thither  at  its  will,  and  nobles 
were  murdered  on  the  high  way  or  hung  at 
lamp-posts  in  the  street,  and  each  night  the  hori- 
zon was  illumined  by  the  conflagration  of  their 
chateaux,  a  husband  and  father  can  hardly  be 
severely  censured  for  endeavoring  to  escape  with 
his  wife  and  children  from  such  scenes  of  horror. 
A  year  of  gloom  now  slowly  passed  away, 
almost  every  moment  of  which  was  embittered 
by  disappointed  hopes  and  gathering  fears.  The 
emigrants,  who  were  assembled  at  Coblentz,  on 
the  frontiers  of  Germany,  were  organizing  an 
army  for  the  invasion  of  France  and  the  resto- 
ration of  the  regal  powe;.  Tho  people  were  very 
fearful  that  the  king  and  quuen  might  escape, 
and,  joining  the  emigrants,  idd  immeasurably 
tc  their  moral  strength.  There  were  thousand* 
a  France,  overawed  by  the  terrors  of  the  mob, 
wlio  would  most  eagerly  have  rallied  around  the 
banners  of  such  an  invading  army,  headed  by 
their  own  king.  Louis,  however,  with  his  char- 
acteristic want  of  energy,  was  very  unwilling  to 


1789.]      THE  PALACB  A  PRISON.  167 

Profligate  women.  Their  talk  with  the  queen. 

assume  a  hostile  attitude  toward  his  subject, 
and  still  vainly  hoped,  by  concessions  and  by 
She  exhibition  of  a  forgiving  spirit,  to  reconcile 
bis  disaffected  people. 

On  the  morning  after  the  arrival  of  tho  king 
tnd  queen  at  the  Tuileries,  an  occurrence  took 
place  highly  characteristic  of  the  times.  A 
crowd  of  profligate  women,  the  same  who  be- 
atrode  the  cannon  the  day  before,  insulting  the 
queen  with  the  most  abusive  language,  collected 
under  the  queen's  windows,  upon  the  terrace  of 
the  palace.  Maria,  hearing  their  outcries,  came 
to  the  window.  A  furious  termagant  addressed 
her,  telling  her  that  she  must  dismiss  all  snob 
courtiers  as  ruin  kings,  and  that  she  must  love 
the  inhabitants  of  her  good  city.  The  queen  re- 
plied, 

"  I  have  loved  them  at  Versailles,  and  will 
also  love  them  at  Paris." 

"  Yes !  yes !"  answered  another.  "  But  yon 
wanted  to  besiege  the  city  and  have  it  bombard- 
ed. And  you  wanted  to  fly  to  the  frontiers  and 
join  the  emigrants." 

The  queen  mildly  replied,  "  You  have  been 
told  so,  my  friends,  and  have  believed  it,  and 
that  is  the  cause  of  the  unhappiness  of  the  peo- 
ple and  af  the  best  of  kings." 


168  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [17H9 

Bravo*  of  the  women.  Plan  for  the  quwn'g  eccape 


Another  addressed  her  in  German,  to  which 
the  queen  answered,  "  I  do  not  understand  you. 
I  have  become  so  entirely  French  as  even  to 
have  forgotten  my  mother  tongue." 

At  this  they  all  clapped  their  hands,  and 
shouted,  "  Bravo  !  bravo  !"  They  then  asked 
for  the  ribbons  and  flowers  out  of  her  hat.  Her 
majesty  unfastened  them  herself,  and  then  toss- 
ed them  out  of  the  window  to  the  women. 
They  were  received  with  great  eagerness,  and 
divided  among  the  party  ;  and  for  half  an  hour 
they  kept  up  the  incessant  shout,  "  Maria  An- 
toinette forever!  Our  good  queen  forever!" 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  some  of  the  de- 
voted friends  of  the  queen  had  matured  a  plan 
by  which  her  escape  could  be,  without  diffi- 
culty, effected.  The  queen,  whose  penetrating 
mind  fully  comprehended  the  peril  of  her  situ- 
ation, replied,  while  expressing  the  deepest  grat- 
itude to  her  friends  for  their  kindness,  "  I  will 
never  leave  either  the  king  or  my  children.  If 
I  thought  that  I  alone  were  obnoxious  to  pub- 
lic hatred,  I  would  instantly  offer  my  life  as  a 
f  acrifioe.  But  it  is  the  throne  which  is  aimed 
at.  In  abandoning  the  king,  no  other  advant- 
age can  be  obtained  than  merely  saving  my 
life  ;  and  I  will  never  be  guilty  of  such  an  act 
of 


1789]      THB  PALACB  A  PRISON.          169 

Latter  from  the  queaa.  Bar  employmtata 

The  following  letter,  which  she  wrote  at  this 
time  to  a  friend,  in  reply  to  a  letter  of  sympa- 
thy in  reference  to  the  outrage  which  had  torn 
her  from  Versailles,  will  enable  one  to  form 
A  judgment  of  her  situation  and  state  of  mind 
at  that  time.  "I  shed  tears  of  affection  on 
reading  your  sympathizing  tatter.  You  talk 
of  my  courage ;  it  required  much  less  to  go 
through  the  dreadful  crisis  of  that  day  than  is 
now  daily  necessary  to  endure  our  situation, 
our  own  griefs,  those  of  our  friends,  and  those 
of  the  persons  who  surround  us.  This  is  a 
heavy  weight  to  sustain  ;  and  but  for  the  strong 
ties  by  which  my  heart  is  bound  to  my  husband, 
my  children,  and  my  friends,  I  should  wish  to 
sink  under  it.  But  you  bear  me  up.  I  ought 
to  sacrifice  such  feelings  to  your  friendship. 
But  it  is  I  who  bring  misfortune  on  you  all, 
and  all  your  troubles  are  on  my  account." 

The  queen  now  lived  for  some  time  in  much 
retirement.  She  employed  the  mornings  in 
superintending  the  education  of  her  son  and 
daughter,  both  of  whom  received  all  their  les- 
ions in  her  presence,  and  she  endeavored  to  oc- 
cupy her  mind,  continually  agitated  as  it  was 
by  ever-recurring  scenes  of  outrage  and  of  dan- 
ger, by  working  large  pieces  of  tapestry.  8h« 


170  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1789 

The  king's  unwillingness  to  flee.       Execution  of  the  Marquis  of  Pavra* 

could  not  sufficiently  recall  her  thoughts  from 
the  anxieties  which  continually  engrossed  them 
to  engage  in  reading.  The  king  was  extremely 
unwilling  to  seek  protection  in  flight,  lest  the 
throne  should  be  declared  vacant,  and  he  should 
thus  lose  his  crown.  He  was  ever  hoping  that 
Affairs  would  soon  take  such  a  turn  that  har 
mony  would  be  restored  to  his  distracted  king 
dom.  Maria  Antoinette,  however,  who  had  a 
much  more  clear  discernment  of  the  true  state 
of  affairs,  soon  felt  convinced  that  reconcilia- 
tion, unless  effected  by  the  arm  of  power,  was 
hopeless,  and  she  exerted  all  her  influence  to 
rouse  the  king  to  vigorous  measures  for  escape. 
While  firmly  resolved  never  to  abandon  her 
husband  and  her  family  to  save  her  own  life, 
she  still  became  very  anxious  that  all  should 
endeavor  to  escape  together. 

About  this  time  the  Marquis  of  Favras  waa 
accused  of  having  formed  a  plan  for  the  rescue 
of  the  royal  family.  He  was  very  hastily  tried, 
the  mob  surrounding  the  tribunal  and  threaten- 
ing the  judges  with  instant  death  unless  they 
should  condemn  him.  He  was  sentenced  to  be 
hung,  and  was  executed,  surrounded  by  the  in- 
nulls  and  execrations  of  the  populace  of  Pari*. 
The  marquis  left  a  wife  and  a  little  boy  over* 


THE   PALACE  A  PRISON.  171 

hnpmdenca  of  some  of  the  queen'g  frfond*.  Her  embarntMinent 

whelmed  with  grief  and  in  hopeless  poverty. 
On  the  following  Sunday  morning,  some  ex- 
tremely injudicious  friends  of  the  queen,  moved 
mth  sympathy  for  the  desolated  family,  without 
consulting  the  queen  upon  the  subject,  presented 
the  widow  and  the  orphan  in  deepest  mourning 
at  court.  The  husband  and  father  had  fallen  a 
sacrifice  to  his  love  for  the  queen  and  her  family. 
The  queen  was  extremely  embarrassed.  What 
course  could  she  with  safety  pursue  ?  If  she 
should  yield  to  the  dictates  of  her  own  heart, 
and  give  expression  to  her  emotions  of  sympa- 
thy and  gratitude,  she  would  rouse  to  stiL 
greater  fury  the  indignation  of  the  populace  who 
were  accusing  her  of  the  desire  to  escape,  and 
who  considered  this  desire  as  one  of  the  greatest 
of  crimes.  Should  she,  on  the  other  hand,  sur- 
render herself  to  the  dictates  of  prudence,  and 
neglect  openly  to  manifest  any  special  interest 
in  their  behalf,  how  severely  must  she  be  cen- 
sured by  the  Loyalists  for  her  ingratitude  toward 
those  who  had  been  irretrievably  ruined  through 
their  love  for  her. 

The  queen  was  extremely  pained  by  this  un- 
expected and  impolitic  presentation;  for  the 
fate  of  others,  far  dearer  to  her  than  her  own 
life,  were  involved  in  her  conduct  She  with- 


172  MARIA   A/ITOIWKTTE.         [1789. 

The  queen  weep*.  Present  to  Madame  FBTTM 

drew  from  the  painful  scene  to  her  private  apart- 
ment, threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and,  weepin^ 
bitterly,  said  to  an  intimate  friend,  "  We  must 
perish !  We  are  assailed  by  men  who  possess 
extraordinary  talent,  and  who  shrink  from  no 
•rime.  We  are  defended  by  those  who  have 
the  kindest  intentions,  but  who  have  no  ade- 
quate idea  of  our  situation.  They  have  ex- 
posed me  to  the  animosity  of  be  th  parties  by 
presenting  to  me  the  widow  and  the  son  of  the 
Marquis  of  Favras.  Were  I  free  to  act  as  my 
heart  impels  me,  I  should  take  the  child  of  the 
man  who  has  so  nobly  sacrificed  himself  for  us, 
and  adopt  him  as  my  own,  and  place  him  at  the 
table  between  the  king  and  myself.  But,  sur- 
rounded by  the  assassins  who  have  destroyed 
his  father,  I  did  not  dare  even  to  cast  my  eyes 
upon  him.  The  Royalists  will  blame  me  for 
not  having  appeared  interested  in  this,poor  child. 
The  Revolutionists  will  be  enraged  at  the  idea 
that  his  presentation  should  have  been  thought 
agreeable  to  me."  The  next  day  the  queen 
sent,  by  a  confidential  friend,  a  purse  of  gold 
to  Ma  lame  Favras,  and  assured  her  that  she 
would  ever  watch,  with  the  deepest  interest, 
over  her  fortune  and  that  of  her  son. 

Innumerable  plans  were  now  formed  for  th« 


1789.]      THE  PALACE  A  PRISON.          173 

rbe  king  ecotinuea  inactire.  Plan  of  Count  dlniacUl 

rescue  of  the  royal  family,  and  abandoned.  The 
king  could  not  be  roused  to  energetic  action. 
His  passive  courage  was  indomitable,  but  he 
oould  not  be  induced  to  act  on  the  offensive, 
ind  still  hoping  that  by  a  spirit  of  conciliation 
h«  might  win  back  the  affection*  of  his  people, 
he  was  extremely  reluctant  to  take  any  meas- 
ures by  which  he  should  be  arrayed  in  hostility 
against  them.  Maria,  on  the  contrary,  knew 
that  decisive  action  alone  could  be  of  any  avail. 
One  night,  about  ten  o'clock,  the  king  and 
queen  were  sitting  in  their  private  apartment 
of  the  Tuileries,  endeavoring  to  beguile  the  mel- 
ancholy hours  by  a  game  of  cards.  The  sister 
of  the  king,  Madame  Elizabeth,  with  a  very 
pensive  countenance,  was  kneeling  upon  a  stool, 
by  the  side  of  the  table,  overlooking  the  game. 
A  nobleman,  Count  d'Inisdal,  devotedly  attach- 
ed to  the  fortunes  of  the  royal  family,  entered, 
and,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  informed  the  king 
and  queen  that  a  plan  was  already  matured  to 
rescue  them  that  very  night ;  that  a  section  of 
the  National  Guard  was  gained  over,  that  sets 
of  fleet  horses  were  placed  in  relays  at  suitable 
distances,  that  carriages  were  ready,  and  that 
now  they  only  wanted  the  king's  consent,  and 
*be  scheme,  at  midnight,  would  be  carried  into 


174  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

Indecision  of  the  king.  The  queen'*  dUappoivbmnt 

execution.  The  king  listened  to  every  word 
without  the  movement  of  a  muscle  of  his  coun- 
tenance, and,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  cards  in 
his  hand,  as  if  paying  no  attention  to  what  had 
been  said,  uttered  not  a  syllable.  For  some 
time  there  was  perfect  silence.  At  last  Maria 
Antoinette,  who  was  extremely  anxious  that 
the  king  should  avail  himself  of  this  opportuni- 
ty for  escape,  broke  the  embarrassing  silence 
by  saying,  "  Do  you  hear,  sir,  what  is  said  to 
us  ?"  "  Yes,"  replied  the  king,  calmly,  "  I  hear," 
and  he  continued  his  game.  Again  there  was 
a  long  silence.  The  queen,  extremely  anxious 
and  impatient,  for  the  hour  of  midnight  was 
drawing  near,  again  interrupted  the  silence  by 
saying  earnestly,  "  But,  sif,  some  reply  must 
be  made  to  this  communication."  The  king 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  still  looking 
upon  the  cards  in  his  hand,  said,  "The  king- 
can  not  consent  to  be  carried  off."  Maria  An- 
toinette  was  greatly  disappointed  at  the  want 
of  decision  and  of  magnanimity  implied  in  this 
answer.  She,  however,  said  to  the  nobleman 
very  eagerly,  "  Be  careful  and  report  this  an- 
rwer  correctly,  the  king  can  not  consent  to  be 
carried  off."  The  king's  answer  was  doubtless 
intended  as  a  tacit  consent  while  he  wished  tc 


1789.]      THE   PALACE  A   PRISON.  175 

Displeasure  of  Count  d'lnUdal.  An  alarm. 

avoid  the  responsibility  of  participating  in  the 
design.  The  count,  however,  was  greatly  dis- 
pleased at  this  answer,  and  said  to  his  asso- 
ciates, "  I  understand  it  perfectly.  He  is  will- 
ing that  we  should  seize  and  carry  him,  as  if  by 
violence,  but  wishes,  in  case  of  failure,  to  throw 
all  the  blame  upon  those  who  are  periling  their 
lives  to  save  him."  The  queen  hoped  earnestly 
that  the  enterprise  would  not  be  abandoned,  and 
eat  up  till  after  midnight  preparing  her  cases 
of  valuables,  and  anxiously  watching  for  the 
coming  of  their  deliverers.  But  the  hours  lin- 
gered away,  and  the  morning  dawned,  and  the 
palace  was  still  their  prison.  The  queen,  short- 
ly after,  remarking  upon  this  indecision  of  the 
king,  said,  "We  must  seek  safety  in  flight. 
Our  peril  increases  every  day.  No  cue  can  tell 
to  what  extremities  these  disturbances  will  lead." 
La  Fayette  had  informed  the  king,  that, 
should  he  see  any  alarming  movement  among 
the  disaffected,  threatening  the  exposure  of  the 
royal  family  to  new  acts  of  violence,  he  would 
give  them  an  intimation  of  their  danger  by  the 
discharge  of  a  few  cannon  from  the  battery  upon 
the  Pont  Neuf.  One  night  the  report  of  guns 
from  some  casual  discharge  was  heard,  and  the 
king,  regarding  it  as  the  warning,  in  great 


176  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [17»9 

Attempts  to  Msaaainato  the  queea.  Removal  to  8t  Ckmd 

alarm  flew  to  the  apartments  of  the  queen. 
She  was  not  there.  He  passed  hastily  from 
room  to  room,  and  at  last  found  her  in  the  cham- 
ber of  the  dauphin,  with  her  two  children  in  her 
arms.  "  Madame,"  said  the  king  to  her,  "  I 
have  been  seeking  you.  I  was  very  anxious 
about  you."  "  You  find  me,"  replied  the  queen 
pointing  to  her  children,  "  at  my  station." 

Several  unavailing  attempts  were  made  at 
this  time  to  assassinate  the  queen.  These  dis- 
coveries, however,  seemed  to  cause  Maria  no 
alarm,  and  she  could  not  be  induced  to  adopt 
any  precautions  for  her  personal  safety.  Rarely 
did  a  day  pass  in  which  she  did  not  encounter, 
in  some  form,  ignominy  or  insult.  As  the  heat 
of  summer  came  on,  the  royal  family  removed 
to  the  palace  of  St.  Cloud  without  any  opposi- 
tion, though  the  National  Guard  followed  them, 
professedly  for  their  protection,  but,  in  reality, 
to  guard  against  their  escape.  Here  another 
plan  was  formed  for  flight.  The  different  mem- 
bers of  the  royal  family,  in  disguise,  were  to 
mee*  in  a  wood  four  leagues  from  St.  Cloud 
Some  f"iends  of  the  royal  family,  who  could  be 
perfectly  relied  upon,  were  there  to  join  them 
A  large  caniage  was  to  be  in  attendance,  suffi- 
cient to  conduct  the  whole  family.  The  attend 


1789.]       THE   PALACE  A   PRISON.  177 

Another  plan  for  flight  It  i»  abandoned 

ants  at  the  palace  would  have  no  suspicion  of 
their  escape  until  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
as  the  royal  carriages  were  frequently  out  until 
that  hour,  and  it  would  then  take  some  time  to 
send  to  Paris  to  call  together  the  National  As- 
sembly at  midnight,  and  to  send  couriers  to 
overtake  the  Fugitives.     Thus,  with  fleet  horses 
and  fresh  relays,  and  having  six  or  seven  hours 
the  start,  the  king  and  queen  might  hope  to 
escape  apprehension.      The  queen  very  high 
ly  approved  of  this  plan,  and  was  very  any 
ious  to  have  it  carried  into  execution      Bu* 
for  some  unknown  reason,  the  attempt  was  re- 
linquished. 

There  were  occasional  exhibitions  of  strong 
individual  attachment  for  the  king  and  queen 
which  would,  for  a  moment,  create  the  illusion 
that  a  reaction  had  commenced  in  the  public 
mind.  One  day  the  queen  was  sitting  in  her 
apartment  at  St.  Cloud,  in  the  deepest  dejection 
of  spirits,  mechanically  working  upon  some  tap. 
estry  to  occupy  the  joyless  and  lingering  hours. 
It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  pal- 
ace  was  deserted  and  silent.  The  very  earth 
and  sky  seemed  mourning  in  sympathy  with 
the  mourning  queen.  Suddenly,  an  unusual 
noise,  as  of  many  persons  conversing  in  r.n 
11—12 


178  MARIA  ANTO  NETT*.          [1789 

Exhibitions  of  attachment  Emotion*  of  the  qptm 

under  tone,  was  heard  beneath  the  window. 
The  queen  immediately  rose  and  went  to  the 
window ;  for  every  unaccustomed  sound  was,  in 
§uoh  perilous  times,  an  occasion  of  alarm.  Be- 
low the  balcony,  she  saw  a  group  of  some  fifty 
persons,  men  and  women,  from  the  country,  ap- 
parently anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her. 
They  were  evidently  humble  people,  dressed  in 
the  costume  of  peasants.  As  soon  as  they  saw 
the  queen,  they  gave  utterance  to  the  most  pas- 
sionate expressions  of  attachment  and  devotion. 
The  queen,  who  had  long  been  accustomed  only 
to  looks  and  words  of  defiance  and  insult,  was 
entirely  overpowered  by  these  kind  words,  and 
could  not  refrain  from  bursting  into  tears.  The 
sight  of  the  weeping  queen  redoubled  the  affec- 
tionate emotions  of  the  loyal  group,  and,  with 
the  utmost  enthusiasm,  they  reiterated  their 
assurances  of  love  and  their  prayers  for  her 
safety.  A  lady  of  the  queen's  household,  ap- 
prehensive that  the  scene  might  arrest  the  at- 
tention of  the  numerous  spies  who  surrounded 
them,  led  her  from  the  window.  The  affection- 
ate group,  appreciating  the  prudence  of  the 
measure,  with  tears  of  sympathy  expressed  their 
assent,  and  with  prayers,  tears,  and  benedictions 
retired  Maria  was  daeply  touched  by  these 


1789.        THE   PALACE  A  PRISOJ.  179 

fhe  MMMiB  t»  the  garden.  Midnight  latwflein. 

unwonted  tones  of  kindness,  and,  throwing  her- 
self into  her  chair,  sobbed  with  uncontrollable 
emotion.  It  was  long  before  she  could  regain 
her  accustomed  composure. 

Many  unsuccessful  attempts  were  made  at 
this  time  to  assassinate  the  queen.  A  wretch 
by  the  name  of  Rotondo  succeeded  one  day  in 
scaling  the  walls  of  the  garden,  and  hid  himself 
in  the  shrubbery,  intending  to  stab  the  queen 
as  she  passed  in  her  usual  solitary  promenade. 
A  shower  prevented  the  queen  from  going  into 
the  garden,  and  thus  her  life  was  saved.  And 
yet,  though  the  assassin  was  discovered  and  ar- 
rested, the  hostility  of  the  public  toward  the 
royal  family  was  such  that  he  was  shielded  from 
punishment. 

The  king  and  queen  occasionally  held  private 
interviews  at  midnight,  with  chosen  friends,  se- 
cretly introduced  to  the  palace,  in  the  apart- 
ment of  the  queen.  And  there,  in  low  tones  of 
voice,  and  fearful  of  detection  by  the  numerous 
spies  which  infested  the  palace,  they  would  de- 
liberate upon  their  peril,  and  upon  the  innumer- 
able plans  suggested  for  their  extrication.  Some 
recommended  the  resort  to  violence ;  that  the 
king  should  gather  around  him  as  many  of  hi* 
faithful  subjects  as  possible,  and  settle  the  dif- 


180  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1789 

Deliberations  of  the  king's  friend*.  Taunting  gift 

fioulties  by  an  immediate  appeal  to  arms.  Oth- 
ers urged  further  compromise,  and  the  spirit  of 
conciliation,  hoping  that  the  king  might  thus 
regain  his  lost  popularity,  and  re-establish  his 
tottering  throne.  Others  urged,  and  Maria  co- 
incided most  cordially  in  this  opinion,  that  it 
was  necessary  for  the  royal  family  to  escape 
from  Paris  immediately,  which  was  the  focua 
of  disaffection,  and  at  a  safe  distance,  surround- 
ed by  their  armed  friends,  to  treat  with  their 
enemies  and  to  compel  them  to  reasonable  terms. 
The  indecision  of  the  king,  however,  appeared 
to  be  an  insuperable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  any 
decisive  action. 

One  day  a  delegation  appeared  before  the  roy- 
al family  from  the  conquerors  of  the  Bastile, 
with  a  new  year's  gift  for  the  young  dauphin. 
The  present  consisted  of  a  box  of  dominoes  cu- 
riously wrought  from  the  stone  of  which  that 
celebrated  state  prison  was  built.  It  was  an 
ingenious  plan  to  insult  the  royal  family  under 
the  pretense  of  respect  and  affection,  for  on  the 
lid  of  the  box  there  was  engraved  the  following 
sentiment:  "These  stones,  from  thaw  alls  which 
inclosed  the  innocent  victims  of  arbitrary  pow- 
er, have  been  converted  into  a  toy,  tc  be  pre- 
sented to  you,  monseifneur,  as  an  homage  of 


1789.J      THE   PALACB   A  PRISON.  181 

The  king'i  anntt  leave  France.  They  are  arrests* 

the  people's  love,  and  to  teach  you  the  extern 
of  their  power" 

About  this  time,  the  two  aunts  of  the  king 
left  France,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  trav 
oling,  but,  in  reality,  as  an  experiment,  to  see 
what  opposition  would  be  made  to  prevent  mem- 
bers of  the  royal  family  from  leaving  the  king- 
dom. As  soon  as  their  intention  was  known, 
it  excited  the  greatest  popular  ferment.  A  vast 
crowd  of  men  and  women  assembled  at  the  pal- 
ace, to  prevent,  if  possible,  with  lawless  vio- 
lence, their  departure.  It  was  merely  two  el- 
derly ladies  who  wished  to  leave  France,  but 
the  excitement  pervaded  even  the  army,  and 
many  of  the  soldiers  joined  the  mob  in  the  de- 
termination that  they  should  not  be  permitted 
to  depart.  The  traces  of  the  carriages  were  cut, 
and  the  officers,  who  tried  to  protect  the  prin 
cesses,  were  nearly  murdered.  The  whole  nn- 
tion  was  agitated  by  the  attempts  of  these  twi 
peaceful  ladies  to  visit  Rome.  When  at  some 
distance  from  Paris,  they  were  arrested,  and  the 
report  of  their  arrest  was  sent  to  the  National 
Assembly.  The  king  found  the  excitement  so 
great,  that  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Assembly, 
informing  them  that  his  aunts  wished  to  leave 
France  to  visit  other  countries,  and  that,  though 


182  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1791 

Exciting  debate.  The  ladle*  permitted  to  depart 

he  witnessed  their  separation  from  him  and  hi« 
family  with  much  regret,  he  did  not  feel  that 
he  had  any  right  to  deprive  them  of  the  privilege 
which  the  humblest  citizens  enjoyed,  of  going 
whenever  and  wherever  they  pleased.  The 
question  of  their  detention  was  for  a  long  time 
debated  in  the  Assembly.  "  What  right,"  said 
one,  "  have  we  to  prohibit  these  ladies  from  trav- 
eling." "  We  have  a  law,"  another  indignantly 
replied,  "paramount  to  all  others — the  law 
which  commands  us  to  take  care  of  the  public 
safety."  The  debate  was  finally  terminated 
by  the  caustic  remark  of  a  merriber  who  was 
ashamed  of  the  protracted  discussion.  "Eu 
rope,"  said  he,  "  will  be  greatly  astonished,  no 
doubt,  on  hearing  that  the  National  Assembly 
spent  four  hours  in  deliberating  upon  the  de- 
parture of  two  ladies  who  preferred  hearing  mass 
at  Rome  rather  than  at  Paris."  The  debate 
was  thus  terminated,  and  the  ladies  were  per- 
initted  to  depart. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1791,  the  king  and 
queen,  who  had  been  passing  some  time  in  Paris 
at  the  Tuiteries,  wished  to  return  to  their  coun- 
try seat  at  St.  Cloud.  Many  members  of  the 
household  had  already  gone  there,  and  dinner 
was  prepared  for  the  royal  family  at  th«  palace 


1791.1      THE   PALACE  A  PRISON.  185 

Ttw  royal  family  itart  for  8t  Ctaui.  They  are  compelled  to  return. 

for  their  reception.  The  carriages  were  at  the 
door,  and,  as  the  king  and  queen  were  descend 
ing,  a  great  tumult  in  the  yard  arrested  their 
attention.  They  found  that  the  guard,  fearful 
that  they  might  escape,  had  mutinied,  and  closed 
the  door  of  the  palace,  declaring  that  they  would 
not  let  them  pass.  Some  of  the  personal  friend* 
of  the  king  interposed  in  favor  of  the  insulted 
captives,  and  endeavored  to  secure  for  them  more 
respectful  treatment.  They  were,  however, 
seized  by  the  infuriated  soldiers,  and  narrowly 
escaped  with  their  lives.  The  king  and  queen 
returned  in  humiliation  to  their  apartments, 
feeling  that  their  palace  was  indeed  a  prison 
They,  however,  secretly  did  not  regret  the  oc- 
currence, as  it  made  more  public  the  indignities 
to  which  they  were  exposed,  and  would  aid  in 
justifying  before  the  community  any  attempts 
they  might  hereafter  make  to  escape. 

Tne  king  had  at  length  become  thoroughly 
iroused  to  a  sense  of  the  desperate  position  of 
.iis  affairs.  But  the  royal  family  was  watched 
BO  narrowly  that  it  was  now  extremely  difficult 
to  make  any  preparations  for  departure ;  and 
the  king  and  queen,  both  having  been  brought 
up  surrounded  by  the  luxuries  and  restraints 
of  a  palace,  knew  so  little  of  the  world,  and  yet 


186  MARIA   ANTOINETTE-         [1791 

Preparation*  for  flight  Imprudence  of  the  king  and  qoeen. 

were  so  accustomed  to  have  their  own  way,  tha*. 
they  were  entirely  incapable  of  forming  any  ju- 
dicious plan  for  themselves,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  they  were  quite  unwilling  to  adopt  the 
views  of  their  more  intelligent  friends.  They 
began,  however,  notwithstanding  the  most  earn- 
est remonstrances,  to  make  preparations  foi 
flight  by  providing  themselves  with  every  con- 
ceivable comfort  for  their  exile.  In  vain  di<* 
their  friends  assure  them  that  they  could  pur- 
chase any  thing  they  desired  in  any  part  of  Eu- 
rope ;  that  such  quantities  of  luggage  would  be 
only  an  encumbrance ;  that  it  was  dangerous, 
under  the  eyes  of  their  vigilant  enemies,  to  be 
making  such  extensive  preparations.  Neither 
the  king  nor  queen  would  heed  such  monitions. 
The  queen  persisted  in  her  resolution  to  send  to 
Brussels,  piece  by  piece,  all  the  articles  of  a 
complete  and  extensive  wardrobe  for  herself  and 
her  children,  to  be  ready  for  them  there  upon 
their  arrival.  Madame  Campan,  the  intimate 
friend  and  companion  of  the  queen,  was  extreme* 
ly  uneasy  in  view  of  this  imprudence ;  but,  a» 
she  could  not  dissuade  the  queen,  she  went  out 
again  and  again,  in  the  evening  and  in  disguise, 
to  purchase  the  necessary  articles  and  have  them 
made  up.  She  adopted  the  precaution  of  pur 


1791.]      THE  PALACE  A  PRISOH.          187 

Garments  for  the  oalklPen  Tfce  qaeem't  dreMtnf-caM. 

chasing  but  few  articles  at  any  one  shop,  and 
of  employing  various  seamstresses,  lest  suspi- 
cion should  be  excited.  She  had  the  garments 
made  for  the  daughter  of  the  queen,  cut  by  the 
measure  of  another  young  lady  who  exactly  re- 
sembled her  in  size.  Gradually  they  thus  filled 
one  large  trunk  with  clothing,  which  was  sent 
to  the  dwelling  of  a  lady,  one  of  the  friends  of 
the  queen,  who  was  to  convey  it  to  Brussels. 

The  queen  had  a  very  magnificent  dressing- 
case,  which  cost  twelve  hundred  dollars.  This 
she  also  determined  that  she  could  not  leave  be- 
hind. It  could  not  be  taken  from  the  palace, 
and  sent  away  out  of  the  country,  without  at- 
tracting attention,  and  leading  at  once  to  the 
conviction  that  the  queen  was  to  follow  it.  The 
queen,  in  her  innocent  simplicity  of  mankind, 
thought  that  the  people  could  be  blinded  like 
children,  by  telling  them  that  she  intended  to 
send  it  as  a  present  to  the  Archduchess  Chris- 
tina. However,  by  the  most  earnest  remon- 
strances* of  her  friends,  she  was  induced  only  so 
far  to  change  her  plan  as  to  consent  that  the 
charg6  (f  affaires  from  Vienna  should  ask  her 
at  hei  toilet,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  around 
her,  to  have  just  such  a  dressing-case  made  for 
the  archduchess.  This  plan  was  carried  into 


188  MAR  ii  ANTOINETTE.         [1791 

The  qwven'f  diamonds  and  )HWBU.  The  faithful  Leonard 

execution,  and  the  dressing-case  was  thus  pub- 
licly made ;  but,  as  it  could  not  be  finished  in 
season,  the  queen  sent  her  own  dressing-case, 
saying  that  she  would  keep  the  new  one  her- 
self. It,  however,  did  not  deceive  the  spies 
who  surrounded  the  queen.  They  noticed  all 
these  preparations,  and  communicated  them  to 
the  authorities.  She  also  very  deliberately  col- 
lected all  her  diamonds  and  jewels  in  her  pri- 
vate boudoir,  and  beguiled  the  anxious  hours 
in  inclosing  them  in  cotton  and  packing  them 
away  These  diamonds,  carefully  boxed,  were 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  queen's  hair-dresser, 
a  man  in  whom  she  could  confide,  to  be  carried 
by  him  to  Brussels.  He  faithfully  fulfilled  his 
trust.  But  one  of  the  women  of  the  queen, 
whom  she  did  not  suspect  of  treachery,  but  who 
was  a  spy  of  the  Assembly,  entered  her  boudoir 
by  false  keys  when  the  queen  was  absent,  and 
reported  all  these  proceedings.  The  hair-dress- 
er perished  upon  the  scaffold  for  his  fidelity. 
Let  the  name  of  Leonard  be  honored.  The  in- 
famous informer  has  gone  to  oblivion,  and  we 
wut  not  aid  e^en  to  embalm  her  name  in  con- 
tempt 


1791.]  THE   FLIGHT. 

I»crea«ms[  excitement  Inflamiratory  »pe**h  of  Marat 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE   FLIGHT. 

f¥lHE  ferment  in  the  National  Assembly  wa» 
•-  steadily  and  strongly  increasing.  Every 
day  brought  new  rumors  of  the  preparation  of 
the  emigrants  to  invade  France,  aided  by  the 
armies  of  monarchical  Europe,  and  to  desolate 
the  rebellious  empire  with  fire  and  sword.  Tid- 
ings were  floating  upon  every  breeze,  grossly 
exaggerated,  of  the  designs  of  the  king  and 
queen  to  escape,  to  join  the  avenging  army,  and 
to  wreak  a  terrible  vengeance  upon  their  country 
Furious  speeches  were  made  hi  the  Assembly 
and  in  the  streets,  to  rouse  to  madness  the  peo- 
ple, now  destitute  of  work  and  of  bread.  "Cit- 
izens," ferociously  exclaimed  Marat,  "watch, 
with  an  eagle  eye,  that  palace,  the  impenetra- 
ble den  where  plots  are  ripening  against  the 
people.  There  a  perfidious  queen  lords  it  over 
a  treacherous  king,  and  rears  the  cubs  of  tyran- 
ny. Lawless  priests  there  consecrate  the  arm* 
which  are  to  be  bathed  in  the  blood  of  the  peo- 
ple. The  genius  of  Austria  is  there,  guided  by 


190  MARIA     ANTOINETTE.  [1791 

The  king  and  queen  resolve  to  fly.  Effort' i  of  the  king*!  brother 

the  Austrian  Antoinette.  The  emigrants  are 
there  stimulated  in  their  thirst  for  vengeance. 
Every  night  the  nobility,  with  concealed  dag- 
gers, steal  into  this  den.  They  are  knights  of 
the  poniard — assassins  of  the  people.  Why  is 
not  the  property  of  emigrants  confiscated — their 
houses  burned — a  price  set  upon  their  heads? 
The  king  is  ready  for  flight.  Watch  !  watch  ! 
a  great  blow  is  preparing — is  ready  to  barst;  if 
you  do  not  prevent  it  by  a  counter  blow  more 
sudden,  more  terrible,  the  people  and  liberty 
are  annihilated." 

The  king  and  queen,  in  the  apartments  where 
they  were  virtually  imprisoned,  read  these  an- 
gry and  inflammatory  appeals,  and  both  now 
felt  that  no  further  time  was  to  be  lost  in  at- 
tempting to  effect  their  escape.  It  was  known 
that  the  brother  of  the  king,  subsequently 
Charles  X.,  was  going  from  court  to  court  in 
Europe,  soliciting  aid  for  the  rescue  of  the  il- 
lustrious prisoners.  It  was  known  that  the  King 
of  Austria,  brother  of  Maria  Antoinette,  had 
promised  to  send  an  army  of  thirty-five  thou- 
sand men  to  unite  with  the  emigrants  at  Coiv 
lentz  in  their  march  upon  Paris.  Every  mon- 
arch in  Europe  was  alarmed,  in  view  of  the 
instability  of  his  own  throne,  should  the  rehell- 


1791.]  THE  FLIGHT.  191 

ExMperatloo  of  the  oeople.  Intention  of  the  htef 

ion  of  the  people  against  the  throne  in  France 
prove  triumphant ;  and  Spain,  Prussia,  Sardinia, 
Naples,  and  Switzerland  had  guaranteed  equal 
forces  to  assist  in  the  re-establishment  of  the 
French  monarchy.  It  is  not  strange  that  the 
exasperation  of  the  people  should  have  been 
aroused,  by  the  knowledge  of  these  facts,  be- 
yond all  bounds.  And  their  leaders  were  aware 
that  they  were  engaged  in  a  conflict  in  which 
defeat  was  inevitable  death. 

The  king  had  now  resolved,  if  possible,  to  es- 
cape. He,  however,  declared  that  it  never  was 
his  intention  to  join  the  emigrants  and  invade 
France  with  a  foreign  force.  That,  on  the  con- 
trary, he  strongly  disapproved  of  the  measures 
adopted  by  the  emigrants  as  calculated  only  to 
increase  the  excitement  against  the  throne,  and 
to  peril  his  cause.  He  declared  that  it  was  only 
his  wish  to  escape  from  the  scenes  of  violence, 
insult,  and  danger  to  which  he  was  exposed  in 
Paris,  and  somewhere  on  the  frontiers  of  his 
kingdom  to  surround  himself  by  his  loyal  sub- 
jects, and  there  endeavor  amicably  to  adjust 
the  difficulties  which  desolated  the  empire.  The 
character  of  the  king  renders  it  most  probable 
that  such  was  Ids  intention,  and  such  has  been 
the  verdict  of  posteritv 


192  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1791 

Deliberation*  of  the  emigrant*.  Danger*  thlekea 

But  there  was  another  source  of  embarrass* 
ment  which  extremely  troubled  the  royal  fam- 
ily. The  emigrants  were  deliberating  upon  the 
expediency  of  declaring  the  throne  vacant  by 
default  of  the  king's  liberty,  and  to  nominate 
his  brother  M.  le  Comte  d'Artois  regent  in  his 
stead.  The  king  greatly  feared  this  moral  for- 
feiture of  the  throne  with  which  he  was  men- 
aced under  the  pretense  of  delivering  him.  He 
was  justly  apprehensive  that  the  advance  of  an 
invading  army,  under  the  banners  of  his  broth- 
er, would  be  the  signal  for  the  immediate  de- 
struction of  himself  and  family.  Flight,  con- 
sequently, had  become  his  only  refuge;  and 
flight  was  encompassed  with  the  most  fearful 
perils.  Long  and  agonizing  were  the  months 
of  deliberation  in  which  the  king  and  queen 
saw  these  dangers  hourly  accumalating  around 
them,  while  each  day  the  vigilance  of  their  en- 
emies were  redoubled,  and  the  chances  of  es- 
cape diminished. 

The  following  plan  was  at  last  adopted  for 
the  flight.  The  royal  family  were  to  lea-ve 
Paris  at  midnight  in  disguise,  in  two  carriages, 
for  Montmedy,  on  the  frontiers  of  France  and 
Germany,  about  two  hundred  miles  from  Paris 
This  town  Was  within  the  limits  of  France,  si 


1791.)  THB   FLIGHT.  193 

The  plan  of  flight  The  Marqui*  de  Bouillt 

that  the  king  could  not  be  said  to  have  fled  from 
nis  kingdom.  The  nearest  road  and  the  great 
public  thoroughfare  led  through  the  city  of 
Rheims ;  but,  as  the  king  had  been  crowned 
there,  he  feared  that  he  might  meet  some  one 
by  whom  he  would  be  recognized,  and  he  there- 
fore determined  to  take  a  more  circuitous  route, 
by  by-roads  and  through  small  and  unfrequented 
villages.  Relays  of  horses  were  to  be  privately 
conveyed  to  all  these  villages,  that  the  carriages 
might  be  drawn  on  with  the  greatest  rapidity, 
and  small  detachments  of  soldiers  were  to  be 
stationed  at  important  posts,  to  resist  any  inter- 
ruption which  might  possibly  be  attempted  by 
the  peasantry.  The  king  also  had  a  large  car- 
riage built  privately,  expressly  for  himself  and 
his  family,  while  certain  necessary  attendants 
were  to  follow  in  another. 

The  Marquis  de  Bouille,  who  commanded  a 
portion  of  the  troops  still  faithful  to  the  king, 
was  the  prime  confidant  and  helper  in  this  move- 
ment. He  earnestly,  but  in  vain,  endeavored  to 
induce  the  king  to  make  some  alterations  in 
thi*  plan.  He  entreated  him,  in  the  first  place, 
not  to  excite  suspicion  by  the  use  of  a  peculiar 
carriage  constructed  for  his  own  use,  but  to 
make  use  of  common  carriages  *uch  as  were 

11—13 


194  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1791. 

The  king  refuses  to  change  hi*  plan.  The  MarqnU  <f  AgoaH 

daily  seen  traversing  the  roads.  He  also  be- 
sought him  to  travel  by  the  common  high  way, 
where  relays  of  horses  were  at  all  times  ready 
by  night  and  by  day.  He  represented  to  the 
king  that,  should  he  take  the  unfrequented 
route,  it  would  be  necessary  to  send  relays  of 
horses  beforehand  to  all  these  little  villages ;  that 
so  unusual  an  occurrence  would  attract  atten- 
tion and  provoke  inquiry.  He  urged  also  upon 
the  king  that  detachments  of  troops  sent  along 
these  solitary  roads  would  excite  curiosity,  and 
would  inevitably  create  suspicion.  The  king, 
however,  self-willed,  refused  to  heed  these  re- 
monstrances, and  persisted  in  his  own  plan. 
He,  however,  consented  to  take  with  him  the 
Marquis  d'Agoult,  a  man  of  great  firmness  and 
enargy,  to  advise  and  assist  in  the  unforeseen 
accidents  which  might  embarrass  the  enterprise. 
He  also  reluctantly  consented  to  ask  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria  to  make  a  threatening  move- 
ment toward  the  frontier,  which  would  be  an 
excuse  for  the  movement  through  these  village* 
of  detachments  of  French  troops. 

These  arrangements  made,  the  Marquis  de 
Bonille  sent  a  faithful  officer  to  take  an  ac- 
curate survey  of  the  road,  and  present  a  report 
to  the  king  He  then,  under  various  pretexts. 


1791.J  THE   FLI«HT.  196 

The  Gamut  d*  Fenem.  Hta  Kible  ahmnatev 

removed  to  a  diBtanoe  those  troops  who  were 
known  to  be  disaffected  to  the  royal  cause,  and 
endeavored  to  gather  along  the  line  of  flight 
those  in  whose  loyalty  he  thought  he  oould  con- 
fide. 

At  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  the  secret  of 
the  contemplated  flight  had  been  confided  only 
to  the  king,  the  queen,  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
sister  of  the  king,  and  two  or  three  faithful  at- 
tendants. The  Count  de  Fersen.  a  most  noble- 
spirited  young  gentleman  from  Sweden,  most 
cheerfully  periled  his  life  in  undertaking  the 
exterior  arrangements  of  this  hazardous  enter- 
prise. He  had  often  been  admitted,  hi  the  happy 
days  of  Maria  Antoinette,  to  the  parties  and 
fStes  which  lent  wings  to  the  hours  at  the  Little 
Trianon,  and  chivalrous  admiration  of  her  per- 
son and  character  induced  him  to  consecrate 
himself  with  the  most  passionate  devotion  to 
her  cause.  Three  soldiers  of  the  body-guard, 
Valorg,  Monstrei,  and  Maldan.  were  also  re- 
ceived into  confidence,  and  unhesitatingly  en- 
gaged in  an  enterprise  in  which  success  was  ex- 
tremely problematical,  and  failure  was  certain 
death.  They,  disguised  as  servants,  were  to 
mount  behind  the  carriages,  and  protect  the 
tiyal  family  at  all  risks. 


196  MARIA  ANTOINKTTE.         [1791 

The  king  and  queen  leave  the  palae*.  The  queen  loces  her  w*y 

The  night  of  the  20th  of  June  at  length  ar- 
rived, and  the  hearts  of  the  royal  inmates  of  the 
Tuileries  throbbed  violently  as  the  hour  ap- 
proached which  was  to  decide  their  destiny.  Al 
the  hour  of  eleven,  according  to  their  custom, 
they  took  leave  of  those  friends  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  paying  their  respects  to  them  at  that 
time,  and  dismissed  their  attendants  as  if  to  re- 
tire to  their  beds.  As  soon  as  they  were  alone, 
they  hastily,  and  with  trembling  hands,  dressed 
themselves  in  the  disguises  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  their  journey,  and  by  different  doors 
and  at  different  times  left  the  palace.  It  was 
the  dark  hour  of  midnight.  The  lights  glim- 
mered feebly  from  the  lamps,  but  still  there  was 
the  bustle  of  crowds  coming  and  going  in  those 
ever-busy  streets.  The  queen,  in  her  traveling 
dress,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  one  of  the  body- 
guard, and  leading  her  little  daughter  Maria 
Theresa  by  the  hand,  passed  out  at  a  door  in  the 
rear  of  the  palace,  and  hastened  through  the 
Place  du  Carrousel,  and,  losing  her  way,  crossed 
the  Seine  by  the  Pont  Royal,  and  wandered  foi 
some  time  through  the  darkest  and  most  ob- 
scure streets  before  she  found  the  two  hackney- 
coaches  which  were  waiting  for  them  at  the 
Quai  des  Th6atins.  The  king  left  the  palace 


1791.)  THB   FLIGHT.  197 

Departure  from  Pan*.  Arrival  at  Bondy 

in  a  similar  manner,  leading  his  son  Louis  by 
the  hand.  He  also  lost  his  way  in  the  unfre- 
quented streets  through  which  it  was  necessary 
for  him  to  pass.  The  queen  waited  for  half  an 
hour  in  the  most  intense  anxiety  before  the  king 
arrived.  At  last,  however,  all  were  assembled, 
and,  entering  the  hackney-coaches,  the  Count  de 
Fersen,  disguised  as  a  coachman,  leaped  up  on 
the  box,  and  the  wheels  rattled  over  the  pave- 
ments of  the  city  as  the  royal  family  fled  in 
this  obscurity  from  their  palace  and  their  throne. 
The  emotions  excited  in  the  bosoms  of  the  il- 
lustrious fugitives  were  too  intense,  and  the 
perils  to  which  they  were  exposed  too  dreadful, 
to  allow  of  any  conversation.  Grasping  each 
other's  hands,  they  sat  in  silenc«  through  the 
dark  hours,  with  the  gloomy  remembrance  of 
the  past  oppressing  their  spirits,  and  with  the 
dread  that  the  light  of  morning  might  introduce 
them  to  new  disasters.  A  couple  of  hours  of 
silence  and  gloom  passed  slowly  away,  and  the 
coaches  arrived  at  Bondy,  the  first  stage  from 
Paris.  The  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  was  just 
appearing  in  the  east  as  they  hurriedly  changed 
their  coaches  for  the  large  traveling  carriage  the 
king  had  ordered  and  another  coach  which  there 
awaited  them.  Count  de  Fersen  kissed  the 


198  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [179.1 

Departure  of  the  Count  do  Ferwn.  The  purport 

hands  oi  the  king  and  queen,  and  leaving  them, 
according  to  previjus  arrangements,  with  their 
attendants,  hastened  the  same  night  by  another 
route  to  Brussels,  in  order  to  rejoin  the  roya. 
family  at  a  later  period. 

The  king's  carriages  now  rolled  rapidly  on 
toward  Chalons,  an  important  town  on  their 
route.  The  queen  had  assumed  the  title  and 
character  of  a  German  baroness  returning  to 
Frankfort  with  her  two  children ;  the  king  was 
her  valet  de  chambre,  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
the  king's  sister,  was  her  waiting-maid.  The 
passport  was  made  out  in  the  following  manner : 

"Permit  to  pass  Madame  the  Baroness  of 
Korf,  who  is  returning  to  Frankfort  with  her 
two  children,  her  waiting-maid,  her  valet  de 
ohambre,  and  three  domestics. 

"  The  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs. 

"  MONTMORW.*' 

At  each  post-house  on  the  road  relays  of  eight 
horses  were  waiting  for  the  royal  carriages. 
When  the  sun  rose  over  the  hills  of  France 
they  were  already  many  leagues  from  the  cap 
ita,,  and  as  the  carriages  rattled  furiously  along 
over  hill  and  dale,  the  unwonted  spectacle  on 
that  unfrequented  road  attracted  ~nuoh  atten- 


1791.]  THIS  FLIGHT.  1U9 

4ppew»no*  of  the  fn giUrea.  An  accident 

tioa.  At  every  little  village  where  they  stop- 
ped for  an  exchange  of  horses,  the  villagers  gath- 
ered in  groups  around  the  carriages,  admiring 
the  imposing  spectacle.  The  king  was  fully 
aware  that  the  knowledge  of  his  escape  could 
not  long  be  concealed  from  the  authorities  at 
Paris,  and  that  all  the  resources  of  his  foes 
would  immediately  be  put  into  requisition  to 
secure  his  arrest.  They  therefore  pressed  on 
with  the  utmost  speed,  that  they  might  get  as 
far  as  possible  on  their  way  before  the  pursuit 
should  commence.  The  remarkable  size  and 
structure  of  the  carriage  which  the  king  had 
caused  to  be  constructed,  the  number  of  horses 
drawing  the  carriages,  the  martial  figures  and 
commanding  features  of  the  three  body-guard 
strangely  contrasting  with  the  livery  of  meni- 
als, the  portly  appearance  and  kingly  counte- 
nance of  Louis,  who  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  car- 
riage in  the  garb  of  a  valet  de  chambre,  all 
these  circumstances  conspired  to  excite  suspi- 
cion and  to  magnify  the  dangers  of  the  royal 
family.  They,  however,  proceeded  without  in 
terruption  until  they  arrived  at  the  little  town 
Oi  Montmirail,  near  Chalons,  where,  unfortu- 
nately, one  of  the  carriages  broke  down,  and 
they  were  detained  an  hour  in  making  repair* 


200  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         [1791 

The  journey  renewed.  Emotion*  of  the  fugitive* 

It  was  an  hour  of  intense  anxiety,  for  they 
knew  that  every  moment  was  increasing  the 
probability  of  their  capture.  The  carriage,  how- 
ever, was  repaired,  and  they  started  again  on 
their  flight.  The  sun  shone  brightly  upon  the 
fielils,  which  were  blooming  in  all  the  verdure  of 
the  opening  summer.  The  seclusion  of  the  re- 
gion through  which  they  were  passing  was  en- 
chanting to  their  eyes,  weary  of  looking  out  upon 
the  tumultuous  mobs  of  Paris.  The  children, 
worn  out  by  the  exhaustion  of  a  sleepless  night, 
were  peacefully  slumbering  in  their  parents' 
arms.  Each  revolution  of  the  wheels  was  bring- 
ing them  nearer  to  the  frontier,  where  their  faith- 
ful friend,  M.  de  Bouille,  was  waiting,  with  hi* 
loyal  troops,  to  receive  them.  A  gleam  of  hope 
and  joy  now  rose  in  their  bosoms ;  and,  as  they 
entered  the  town  of  Chalons,  at  half  past  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  smiles  of  joy  lighted 
their  countenances,  and  they  began  to  congrat- 
ulate themselves  that  they  were  fast  approach- 
ing the  end  of  their  dangers  and  their  sufferings 
As  the  horses  were  changing,  a  group  of  idler* 
gathered  around  the  carriages.  The  king,  em- 
boldened by  his  distance  from  the  capital,  im- 
prudently looked  out  at  the  window  of  the  car- 
riage.  The  post-master,  who  had  been  in  Par- 


1791.)  THE  FLIGHT.  203 

Suspicions  excited.  Failure  of  the  guard 

is,  instantly  recognized  the  king.  He,  however, 
without  the  manifestation  of  the  least  surprise, 
aided  in  harnessing  the  horses,  and  ordered  the 
postillion  to  drive  on.  He  would  not  be  an  ac- 
complice in  arresting  the  escape  of  the  king. 
At  the  next  relay,  at  Point  Sommeville.,  quite  a 
concourse  gathered  around  the  carriages,  and 
the  populace  appeared  uneasy  and  suspicious. 
They  watched  the  travelers  very  narrowly,  and 
were  observed  to  be  whispering  with  one  anoth- 
er, and  making  ominous  signs.  No  one,  how- 
ever, ventured  to  make  any  movement  to  de- 
tain the  carriages,  and  they  proceeded  on  their 
way.  A  detachment  of  fifty  hussars  had  been 
appointed  to  meet  the  king  at  this  spot.  They 
were  there  at  the  assigned  moment.  The  break- 
ing down  of  the  carriage,  however,  detained 
the  king,  and  the  hussars,  observing  the  suspi- 
cions their  presence  was  awaking,  departed  half 
an  hour  before  the  arrival  of  the  carriages.  Had 
the  king  arrived  but  one  half  hour  sooner,  the 
safety  of  the  royal  family  would  have  been  se- 
cured. The  king  was  surprised  and  alarmed 
at  not  meeting  the  guard  he  had  anticipated, 
and  drove  rapidly  on  to  the  next  relay  at  Sainte 
Menehould.  It  was  now  half  past  seven  o'clock 
of  a  beautiful  summer's  evening.  The  sun  was 


202  MARIA  ANTOINETTE  [1791 

The  king  recognized.  Tha  dragoon*  a*d  Matkaal  Oiuurd 

just  sinking  below  the  horizon,  but  the  broad 
light  still  lingered  upon  the  valleys  and  the  hills. 
As  they  were  changing  the  horses,  the  king, 
alarmed  at  not  meeting  the  friends  he  expect- 
ed, put  his  head  out  of  the  window  to  see  if  any 
friend  was  there  who  could  inform  him  why  the 
detachments  were  detained.  The  son  of  the 
post-master  instantly  recognized  the  king  by  his 
resemblance  to  the  imprint  upon  the  coins  in 
circulation.  The  report  was  immediately  whis- 
pered about  among  the  crowd,  but  there  was 
not  sufficient  force,  upon  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, to  venture  to  detain  the  carriages.  There 
was  in  the  town  a  detachment  of  troops,  friend- 
ly to  the  king,  who  would  immediately  have 
come  to  his  rescue  had  the  people  attempted  to 
arrest  him.  It  was  whispered  among  the  dra- 
goons that  the  king  was  in  the  carriage,  and 
the  commandant  immediately  ordered  the  troops 
to  mount  their  horses  and  follow  to  protect  the 
royal  family ;  but  the  National  Guard  in  the 
olace,  far  more  numerous,  surrounded  the  bar- 
racks,  closed  the  stables,  and  would  not  allow 
the  soldiers  to  depart.  The  king,  entirely  un- 
conscious of  these  movements,  was  pursuing  his 
course  toward  the  next  relay.  Young  Drouet, 
hawever,  the  post-master's  son,  had  immediate- 


£791]  THB  FLIGHT.      ;  203 

THo  port-marter'i  Km.  He  forms  an  ambiwh 

Iji  upon  recognizing  the  king,  saddled  his  fleet- 
art  horse,  and  started  at  his  utmost  speed  for 
the  post-house  at  Varennes,  that  he  might,  be- 
foie  the  king's  arrival,  inform  the  municipal  au- 
thorities of  his  suspicions,  and  collect  a  sufficient 
force  to  detain  the  travelers.  One  of  the  dra- 
goons, witnessing  the  precipitate  departure  of 
Drouet,  and  suspecting  its  cause,  succeeded  in 
mounting  his  horse,  and  pursued  him,  resolved 
to  overtake  him,  and  either  detain  him  until 
the  king  had  passed,  or  take  his  life.  Drouet, 
however,  perceiving  that  he  was  pursued,  plung- 
ed into  the  wood,  with  every  by-path  of  which 
he  was  familiar,  and,  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  eluded  his  pursuer,  and  arrived  at  Va- 
/ennes,  by  a  very  much  shorter  route  than  the 
carriage  road,  nearly  two  hours  before  the  king. 
He  immediately  communicated  to  a  band  of 
young  men  his  suspicions,  and  they,  emulous 
of  the  glory  of  arresting  their  sovereign,  did  not 
inform  the  authorities  or  arouse  the  populace, 
but,  arming  themselves,  they  formed  an  ambush 
to  seize  the  persons  of  the  travelers.  It  was 
half  past  seven  o'clock  of  a  cold,  dark,  and 
gloomy  night,  when  the  royal  family,  exhaust- 
ed with  twenty-four  hours  of  incessant  anxie- 
ty and  fatigue,  arrived-  at  the  few  straggling 


204  MARIA  ANTOINETTE. 

Arrival  at  Varnnnes.  Alarm  of  the  kimj 

houses  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village  of  Va- 
rennes.  They  there  confidently  expected  to 
find  an  escort  and  a  relay  of  horses  provided  by 
their  careful  friend,  M.  Bouille. 

A.  small  river  passes  through  the  little  town 
of  Varennes,  dividing  it  into  two  portions,  the 
upper  and  lower  town,  which  villages  are  con- 
nected by  a  bridge  crossing  the  stream.  The 
king,  by  some  misunderstanding,  expected  to 
find  the  relay  upon  the  side  of  the  river  before 
crossing  the  bridge.  But  the  fresh  horses  had 
been  judiciously  placed  upon  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  so  that  the  carriages,  having  crossed 
the  bridge  at  full  speed,  could  more  easily,  with 
a  change  of  horses,  hasten  unmolested  on  their 
way.  The  king  and  queen,  greatly  alarmed  at 
rinding  no  horses,  left  the  carriage,  and  wan- 
dered about  in  sad  perplexity  for  half  an  hour, 
through  the  dark,  silent,  and  deserted  streets. 
In  most  painful  anxiety,  they  returned  to  their 
carriages,  and  decided  to  cross  the  river,  hoping 
to  find  the  horses  and  their  friends  in  the  upper 
town.  The  bridge  was  a  narrow  stone  struct* 
ore,  with  its  entrance  surmounted  by  a  gloomy, 
massive  arch,  upon  which  was  reared  a  tower, 
a  relic  of  the  feudal  system,  which  had  braved 
the  storms  of  centuries.  Here,  under  this  dark 


1791.]  THE    FLIGHT.  205 

The  royal  family  arrerted.  The  alarm  glrtm. 

archway,  Drouet  and  his  companions  had  formed 
their  ambuscade.  The  horses  had  hardly  enter- 
ed the  gloomy  pass,  when  they  were  stopped 
by  a  cart  which  had  been  overturned,  and  five 
ar  six  armed  men,  seizing  their  heads,  ordered 
the  travelers  to  alight  and  exhibit  their  pass- 
ports. The  three  body-guard  seized  their  arms, 
and  were  ready  to  sacrifice  their  lives  in  the  at- 
tempt to  force  the  passage,  but  the  king  would 
allow  no  blood  to  be  shed.  The  horses  were 
turned  round  by  the  captors,  and  the  carriages 
were  escorted  by  Drouet  and  his  comrades  to 
the  door  of  a  grocer  named  Sausse,  who  waa 
the  humble  mayor  of  this  obscure  town.  At 
the  same  time,  some  of  the  party  rushed  to  the 
church,  mounted  the  belfry,  and  rang  the  alarm 
bell.  The  solemn  booming  of  that  midnight 
bell  roused  the  affrighted  inhabitants  from  theii 
pillows,  and  soon  the  whole  population  was  gath- 
ered around  the  carriages  and  about  the  door 
of  the  grocer's  shop.  It  was  in  vain  for  the 
king  to  deny  his  rank.  His  marked  feature* 
betrayed  him.  Clamor  and  confusion  filled  the 
night  air.  Men,  women,  and  children  were 
running  to  and  fro ;  the  populace  were  arming, 
to  be  prepared  for  any  emergency  ;  and  the  roy- 
al family  were  worn  out  by  sleeplessness  and 


206  MARIA  ANTOIHETTB.         [179L 

The  king  dlscorsn  hlmselt  HU  affecting  •ppeti. 

toil.  At  last  Louis  made  a  bold  appeal  to  the 
magnanimity  of  his  foes.  Taking  the  hand  of 
Sausse,  he  said, 

'*  Yes !  I  am  youi  idng,  and  in  your  hands  I 
place  my  destiny,  and  that  of  my  wife,  my  sis- 
ter, and  my  children.  Our  lives  and  the  fate 
of  the  empire  depend  upon  you.  Permit  me  to 
continue  my  journey.  I  have  no  design  of  leav- 
ing the  country.  I  am  but  going  to  the  midst 
of  a  part  of  the  army,  and  in  a  French  town,  to 
regain  my  real  liberty,  of  which  the  factions  at 
Paris  deprive  me.  From  thence  I  wish  to  make 
terms  with  the  Assembly,  who,  like  mysttf,  are 
held  in  subjection  through  fear.  I  am  not  about 
to  destroy,  but  to  save  and  to  secure  the  Consti- 
tution. If  you  detain  me,  I  myself,  France, 
all,  are  lost.  I  conjure  you,  as  a  father,  as  a 
man,  as  a  citizen,  leave  the  road  free  to  us.  In 
an  hour  we  shall  be  saved,  and  with  us  France 
is  saved.  And,  if  you  have  any  respect  for  one 
whom  you  profess  to  regard  as  your  master,  I 
command  you,  as  your  king,  to  permit  us  to 
depart " 

The  appeal  touched  the  heart  of  the  grooe? 
and  the  captor*  by  whom  the  king  was  sur- 
rounded. Teai  s  came  into  the  eyes  of  many , 
they  hesitated  ;  the  expression  of  the  ir  coupte- 


1791.J  THE    FLIGHT.  209 

An  affecting  tcant.  The  royal  group. 

nances  showed  that  they  would  willingly,  if 
they  dared  to  consult  the  dictates  of  their  own 
hearts,  let  t\ta  king  pass  on.  A  more  affecting 
scene  can  hardly  be  imagined.  It  was  mid- 
night. Torches  and  flambeaux  were  gleam- 
ing around.  Men,  women,  and  children  were 
hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  darkness.  The 
alarm  bell  was  pealing  out  its  hurried  sounds 
through  the  still  air.  A  crowd  of  half-dressed 
peasants  and  artisans  was  rapidly  accumulating 
about  the  inn.  The  king  stood  pleading  with 
his  subjects  for  liberty  and  life,  far  more  moved 
by  compassion  for  his  wife  and  children  than  for 
himself.  The  children,  weary  and  terrified,  and 
roused  suddenly  from  the  sleep  in  which  they 
had  been  lost  in  their  parents'  arms,  gazed  upon 
the  strange  scene  with  undefined  dread,  uncon- 
scious of  the  magnitude  of  their  peril.  The 
queen,  seated  upon  a  bale  of  goods  in  the  shop, 
with  her  two  children  clinging  to  her  side,  plead, 
*t  times  with  the  tears  of  despair,  and  again 
with  all  the  majesty  of  her  queenly  nature,  for 
pity  or  for  justice.  She  hoped  that  a  woman's 
oeart  throbbed  beneath  the  bosom  of  the  wife 
of  the  mayor,  and  made  an  appeal  to  her  which 
one  would  think  that,  under  the  circumstances. 

no  human  heart  could  have  resisted. 
11—14 


•?*      MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1791 

Appeal  of  the  queen.  Telegraphic  dispatch  to  Part*. 

"You  are  a  mother,  raadame,"  said  the 
queen,  in  most  imploring  accents,  "  you  are  a 
wife !  the  fate  of  a  wife  and  mother  is  in  your 
hands.  Think  what  I  must  suffer  for  these  chil- 
dren— for  my  husband.  At  one  word  from  you  I 
shall  owe  them  to  you.  The  Queen  of  France 
will  owe  you  more  than  her  kingdom — more 
than  life." 

"  Madame,"  coldly  replied  the  selfish  and  cal- 
culating woman,  "  I  should  be  happy  to  heljr 
you  if  I  could  without  danger.  You  are  think 
ing  of  your  husband,  I  am  thinking  of  mine.  If 
is  a  wife's  first  duty  to  think  of  her  own  hns- 
band." 

The  queen  saw  that  all  appeals  to  such  a 
spirit  must  be  in  vain,  arid>  taking  her  two  chil- 
dren by  the  hand,  with  Madame  Elizabeth  as- 
cended the  stairs  which  conducted  from  the 
grocer's  shop  to  his  rooms  above,  where  she  was 
shielded  from  the  gaze  of  the  crowd.  She  threw 
nerself  into  a  chair,  and,  overwhelmed  with  an- 
guish, burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  The  alarm 
bell  continued  to  ring ;  telegraphic  dispatches 
were  sent  to  Paris,  communicating  tidings  of 
the  arrest ;  the  neighboring  villagers  flocked  into 
town ;  the  National  Guard,  composed  of  people 
opposed  to  the  king  were  rapidly  assembled 


1791.]  THB    FLIGHT.  211 

•fooy  of  tb«  qwea.  Coutern«tloB  ta  Pwh 


from  all  quarters,  and  the  streets  barricaded  te 
prevent  the  possibility  of  any  rescue  by  the  sol- 
diers who  advocated  the  royal  cause.  Thru 
the  dreadful  hours  lingered  away  till  the  morn- 
ing dawned.  The  increasing  crowd  stimulated 
one  another  to  ferocity  and  barbarity.  Insults, 
oeths,  and  imprecations  incessantly  fell  upon  the 
ears  of  the  captives.  The  queen  probably  en- 
dured as  much  of  mental  agony  that  night  an 
the  human  mind  is  capable  of  enduring.  The 
conflict  of  indignation,  terror,  and  despair  was 
BO  dreadful,  that  her  hair,  which  the  night  pre- 
vious had  been  auburn,  was  in  the  morning 
white  as  snow.  This  extraordinary  fact  is 
well  attested,  and  indicates  an  enormity  of  wot 
almost  incomprehensible. 

There  was  no  knowledge  in  Paris  of  the 
king's  departure  until  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  the  servants  of  the  palace  en- 
tered the  apartments  of  the  king  and  queen, 
and  found  the  beds  undisturbed  and  the  room* 
deserted.  The  alarm  spread  like  wildfire 
through  the  palace  and  through  the  city.  The 
alarm  bells  were  rung,  cannon  were  fired,  and 
the  cry  resounded  thi  ugh  the  street*,  "  The 
king  has  fled  !  the  kin*  has  fled  !"  The  terri- 
•ed  populace  were  expe  in?  almost  at  the  next 


212  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         (1770 

The  palace  fuxoed.  buulU  to  the  roy»l  Corty 

moment  to  see  him  return  with  an  avenging 
army  to  visit  his  rebellious  subject*  with  the 
most  terrible  retribution.  From  all  parts  of 
the  oity,  every  lane,  and  street,  and  alley  lead- 
ing to  the  Tuileries  was  thronged  with  the 
orowd,  pouring  on,  like  an  inundation,  toward 
the  deserted  palace.  The  doors  were  forced 
open,  and  the  interior  of  the  palace  was  instant- 
ly filled  with  the  swarming  multitudes.  The 
mob  ftom  the  streets  polluted  the  sanctuaries 
of  royalty  with  every  species  of  vulgarity  and 
obscenity.  An  amazon  market-woman  took 
possession  of  the  queen's  bed,  and,  spreading 
tier  cherries  upon  it,  she  took  her  seat  upon  the 
royal  couch,  exclaiming,  "  To-day  it  is  the  na- 
tion's turn  to  take  their  ease."  One  of  the 
caps  of  the  queen  was  placed  in  derision  upon 
the  head  of  a  vile  girl  of  the  street.  She  ex- 
claimed  that  it  would  sully  her  forehead,  and 
trampled  it  under  her  feet  with  contempt.  Ev- 
ery conceivable  insult  was  heaped  upon  the  roy- 
al family.  Placards,  posted  upon  the  walls,  of- 
fered trivial  rewards  to  anyone  who  would  bring 
back  the  noxious  animals  which  had  fled  from 
the  palace.  The  metropolis  was  agitated  to  it* 
very  center,  and  the  most  vigorous  measures 
immediately  adopted  to  arrest  the  king,  if  po» 


1791.]  THE    FLIGHT.  213 

Measures  to  arreat  the  king.  The  tumult  nbcide* 

sible,  before  he  should  reach  the  friends  who 
could  afford  him  protection.     This  turmoil  con 
tinued  for  many  hours,  till  the  cry  passed  fron. 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  filled  the  streets,  "  He  u 
unrated!  he  is  arrested!" 


214  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [179L 


D«rp«ir  of  the  king.  Lovely  character  of  llftia 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS. 

ail  the  long  hours  of  the  night, 
while  the  king  was  detained  in  the  grocer's 
shop  at  Varennes,  he  was,  with  anxiety  inde- 
scribable, looking  every  moment  for  soldiers  to 
appear,  sent  by  M.  Bouill6  for  his  rescue.  But 
the  National  Guard,  which  was  composed  of 
those  who  were  in  favor  of  the  Revolution,  were 
soon  assembled  in  such  numbers  as  to  rendei 
all  idea  of  rescue  hopeless.  The  sun  rose  upon 
Varennes  but  to  show  the  king  the  utter  des- 
peration of  his  condition,  and  he  resigned  him- 
self to  despair.  The  streets  were  filled  with  an 
infuriated  populace,  and  from  every  direction 
the  people  were  flocking  toward  the  focus  of 
excitement.  The  children  of  the  royal  family, 
utterly  exhausted,  had  fallen  asleep.  Madame 
Elizabeth,  one  of  the  most  lovely  and  gentle  ot 
earthly  beings,  the  sister  of  the  king,  who, 
through  all  these  trials,  and,  indeed,  through 
ker  whole  life,  manifested  peculiarly  the  spirit 
Df  heaven,  was,  regardless  of  herself,  oarnestl) 
Graying  for  support  for  her  brother  and  sister 


1791.]       THE    RETURN  TO  PARIS. 

Urturn  to  Paris.  Inrato  of  tfca  mot> 

Preparations. were  immediately  made  to  for- 
ward the  captives  to  Paris,  lest  the  troops  of 
M  Bouille,  informed  of  their  arrest,  should  oome 
to  their  rescue.  The  king  did  every  thing  in 
his  power  to  delay  the  departure,  and  one  of 
the  women  of  the  queen  feigned  sudden  and 
alarming  illness  at  the  moment  all  of  the  rest 
had  been  pressed  into  the  carriages.  But  the 
impatience  of  the  populace  could  not  thus  be 
restrained.  With  shouts  and  threats  they  com- 
pelled all  into  the  carriages,  and  the  melancholy 
procession,  escorted  by  three  or  four  thousand 
of  the  National  Guard,  and  followed  by  a  nu- 
merous and  ever-increasing  concourse  of  the 
people,  moved  slowly  toward  Paris.  Hour  after 
hour  dragged  heavily  along  as  the  fugitives, 
drinking  the  very  dregs  of  humiliation,  were 
borne  by  their  triumphant  and  exasperated  foes 
back  to  the  horrors  from  which  they  had  fled. 
The  road  was  lined  on  either  side  by  countless 
thousands,  insulting  the  agonized  victims  with 
derision,  menaces,  and  the  most  ferocious  ges- 
tures. Varennes  is  distant  from  Paris  one 
hundred  and  eighty  miles,  and  for  this  whole 
distance,  by  night  and  by  day,  with  hardly  an 
hour's  delay  for  food  or  repose,  the  rcyal  family 
were  exposed  to  the  keenest  torture  of  which 


216  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [L79i 

M isaacre  of  M.  Dampierre.  Commissioners  from  Pan< 

the  spiritual  nature  is  in  this  world  susceptible. 
Every  revolution  of  the  wheels  but  brought  then: 
into  contact  with  fresh  vociferations  of  calumny. 
The  fury  of  the  populace  was  so  great  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  the  guard  could  protect 
their  captives  from  the  most  merciless  massacre. 
Again  and  again  there  was  a  rush  made  at  the 
carriages,  and  the  mob  was  beaten  back  by  the 
arms  of  the  soldiers.  One  old  gentleman,  M 
Dampierre,  ever  accustomed  to  venerate  roy 
alty,  stood  by  the  road  side,  affected  by  the  pro- 
foundest  grief  in  view  of  the  melancholy  spec- 
tacle. Uncovering  his  gray  hairs,  he  bowed  re- 
spectfully to  his  royal  master,  and  ventured  to 
give  utterance  to  .accents  of  sympathy.  The 
infuriated  populace  fell  upon  him  like  tigers. 
and  tore  him  to  pieces  before  the  eyes  of  the 
king  and  queen.  The  wheels  of  the  royal  car- 
riage came  very  near  running  over  his  bleeding 
corpse. 

The  procession  was  at  length  met  by  com- 
missioners  sent  from  the  Assembly  to  take 
charge  of  the  king.  Ashamed  of  the  brutality 
of  the  people,  Barnave  and  Petion,  the  two  com- 
missioners, entered  the  royal  carriage  to  share 
the  danger  of  its  inmates.  They  shielded  the 
prisoners  from  death,  but  they  oouM  not  shield 


1791.]      THE    RKTURM  TC  TARIS.          217 

Noble  character  of  BanMTe.  BrutmUty  of  PWoo 

» hem  from  insult  and  outrage.  An  ecclesiastic, 
venerable  in  person  and  in  character,  approached 
the  carriages  as  they  moved  sadly  along,  and 
exhibited  upon  his  features  some  traces  of  re- 
gpect  and  sorrow  for  fallen  royalty.  It  was  a 
mortal  offense.  The  brutal  multitude  would 
not  endure  a  look  even  of  sympathy  for  the  de- 
scendant of  a  hundred  kings.  They  rushed 
upon  the  defenseless  clergyman,  and  would  have 
killed  him  instantly  had  not  Barnave  most 
energetically  interfered.  "  Frenchmen  !"  he 
shouted,  from  the  carriage  windows,  "  will  you, 
a  nation  of  brave  men,  become  a  people  of  mur- 
derers !"  Barnave  was  a  young  man  of  much 
nobleness  of  character.  His  polished  manners, 
and  his  sympathy  for  the  wrecked  and  ruined 
family  of  the  king,  quite  won  their  gratitude 
Petion,  on  the  contrary,  was  coarse  and  brutal. 
He  was  a  Democrat  in  the  worst  sense  of  that 
abused  word.  He  affected  rude  and  rough  fa- 
miliarity with  the  royal  family,  lounged  con- 
temptuously upon  the  cushions,  ate  apples  and 
melons,  and  threw  the  rind  out  of  the  window, 
careless  whether  or  not  he  hit  the  king  in  the 
face.  In  all  his  remarks,  he  seamed  to  take  a 
ferocious  pleasure  in  wounding  the  feelings  of 
his  victims. 


818  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1791 

Approach  to  Paris.  Appalling  violence 

As  the  cavalcade  drew  near  to  Paris,  the 
crowds  surrounding  the  carriages  became  still 
more  dense,  and  the  fury  of  the  populace  more 
unmeasured.  The  leaders  of  the  National  As 
«embly  were  very  desirous  of  protecting  the  roy- 
al family  from  the  rage  of  the  mob,  and  to  shield 
the  nation  from  the  disgrace  of  murdering  the 
king,  the  queen,  and  their  children  in  the  streets 
It  was  feared  that,  when  the  prisoners  should 
enter  the  thronged  city,  where  the  mob  had  so 
long  held  undisputed  sway,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  restrain  the  passions  of  the  multitude, 
and  that  the  pavements  would  be  defaced  with 
the  blood  of  the  victims.  Placards  were  pasted 
upon  the  walls  in  every  part  of  the  city,  "  Who- 
ever applauds  the  king  shall  be  beaten ;  who- 
ever insults  him  shall  be  hung."  As  the  car- 
riages approached  the  suburbs  of  the  metropolis, 
the  multitudes  which  thronged  them  became 
still  more  numerous  and  tumultuous,  and  the 
exhibitions  of  violence  more  appalling.  All  the 
dens  of  infamy  in  the  city  vomited  their  deni- 
tens  to  meet  and  deride,  and,  if  possible,  to  de- 
stroy the  captured  monarch  It  was  a  day  of 
intense  and  suffocating  heat.  Ten  persons  were 
crowded  into  the  royal  carriage.  Not  a  breath 
of  air  fanned  the  favered  cheeks  of  the  sufferer? 


1791.J      THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS.           21S 

Suffering*  of  the  royal  family.  Arrival  at  the  Tnllerle* 

The  heat,  reflected  from  the  pavements  and  the 
bayonets,  was  almost  insupportable.  Clouds  of 
dust  enveloped  them,  and  the  sufferings  of  the 
children  were  so  great  that  the  queen  was  act- 
ually apprehensive  that  they  would  die.  The 
queen  dropped  the  window  of  the  carriage,  and, 
in  a  voice  of  agony,  implored  some  one  to  give 
her  a  cup  of  water  for  her  fainting  child.  "  See, 
gentlemen,"  she  exclaimed,  "  in  what  a  condi- 
tion my  poor  children  are !  one  of  them  is  chok- 
ing." "  We  will  yet  choke  them  and  you,"  was 
the  brutal  reply,  "  in  another  fashion."  Several 
times  the  mob  broke  through  the  line  which 
guarded  the  carriages,  pushed  aside  the  horses, 
and,  mounting  the  steps,  stretched  their  clenched 
fists  in  at  the  windows.  The  procession  moved 
perseveringly  along  in  the  midst  of  the  clashing 
of  sabers,  the  clamor  of  the  blood-thirsty  multi- 
tude, and  the  cries  of  men  trampled  under  the 
hoofs  of  the  horses. 

It  was  the  25th  of  June,  1791,  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  when  this  dreadful  procession, 
passing  through  the  Barrier  de  1'Etoile,  entered 
the  city,  and  traversed  the  streets,  through 
double  files  of  soldiers,  to  the  Tuileriee.  At 
length  they  arrived,  half  dead  with  exhaustion 
and  despair,  at  the  palace.  The  crowd  was  so 


220  MARIA  ANTOINETTE  [179i 

Exertion*  of  La  Fayette.  Roar  of  the  multitude 

immense  that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty 
that  an  entrance  could  be  effected.  At  that 
moment,  La  Fayette,  who  had  been  adopting 
the  most  vigorous  measures  for  the  protection 
of  the  persons  of  the  royal  family,  came  to  meet 
them.  The  moment  Maria  Antoinette  saw 
him,  forgetful  of  her  own  danger,  and  trembling 
for  the  body-guard  who  had  periled  their  lives 
for  her  family,  she  exclaimed,  "  Monsieur  La 
Fayette,  save  the  body-guard."  The  king  and 
queen  alighted  from  the  carriage.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  took  the  children,  and  carried  them 
through  the  crowd  into  the  palace.  A  member 
of  the  Assembly,  who  had  been  inimical  to  the 
King,  came  forward,  and  offered  his  arm  to  the 
queen  foi  her  protection..  She  looked  him  a 
moment  in  the  face,  and  indignantly  rejected 
the  proffered  aid  of  an  enemy.  Then,  seeing  a 
deputy  who  had  been  their  friend,  she  eagerly 
accepted  his  arm,  and  ascended  the  steps  of  the 
palace.  A  prolonged  roar,  as  of  thunder,  ascend- 
ed from  the  multitudinous  throng  which  sur- 
rounded the  palace  when  the  king  and  queen 
had  entered,  and  the  doors  of  their  prison  were 
again  closed  against  them. 

La  Fayette  was  at  the  head  of  the  National 
Guard.      He  was  a  strong    advocate   for  the 


1791.]      THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS  223 

Spirit  of  the  queen.  Embarrauing  poddoa  of  La  Ftyett*. 

rights  of  the  people.  At  the  same  time,  he 
wished  to  respect  the  rights  of  the  king,  and  to 
sustain  a  constitutional  monarchy.  As  soon  as 
they  had  entered  the  palace,  Maria  Antoinette, 
with  that  indomitable  spirit  which  ever  charac- 
terized her,  approached  La  Fayette,  and  offered 
to  him  the  keys  of  her  casket,  as  if  he  were  her 
jailer.  La  Fayette,  deeply  wounded,  refused 
to  receive  them.  The  queen  indignantly,  with 
her  own  hands,  placed  them  in  his  hat.  '*  Your 
majesty  will  have  the  goodness  to  take  them 
back,"  said  the  marquis,  "for  I  certainly  shall 
not  touch  them." 

The  position  of  La  Fayette  at  this  time  was 
about  as  embarrassing  as  it  could  possibly  have 
been ;  and  he  was  virtually  the  jailer  of  the 
royal  family,  answerable  with  his  life  for  their 
safe  keeping.  He  had  always  been  a  firm  friend 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  He  was  very 
anxious  to  see  France  blessed  with  those  free 
institutions  and  that  recognition  of  popular 
rights  which  are  the  glory  of  America,  but  he 
*lso  wished  to  protect  the  king  and  queen  from 
outrage  and  insult;  and  a  storm  of  popular 
fury  had  now  risen  which  he  knew  not  how  to 
control  or  to  guide.  He,  however,  resolved  to 
do  all  in  his  power  to  protect  the  royal  family. 


224  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1791 

The  palace  rigorously  guarded.  The  queen  groMly  Intuited. 

and  to  watoh  the  progress  of  events  with  the 
hope  of  establishing  constitutional  liberty  and  a 
constitutional  throne  over  France. 

The  palace  was  now  guarded,  by  command 
of  the  Assembly,  with  a  degree  of  rigor  unknown 
before.  The  iron  gates  of  the  courts  and  gar- 
den of  the  Tuileries  were  kept  locked.  A  lirt 
of  the  persons  who  were  to  be  permitted  to  see 
*he  royal  family  was  made  out,  and  none  others 
were  allowed  to  enter.  At  every  door  sentinels 
were  placed,  and  in  every  passage,  and  in  the 
corridor  which  connected  the  chambers  of  the 
king  and  queen,  armed  men  were  stationed. 
The  doors  of  the  sleeping  apartments  of  the  king 
and  queen  were  kept  open  night  and  day,  and 
a  guard  was  placed  there  to  keep  his  eye  ever 
apon  the  victims.  No  respect  was  paid  to  fe- 
male modesty,  and  the  queen  was  compelled  to 
retire  to  her  bed  under  the  watchful  eye  of  an 
unfeeling  soldier.  It  seems  impossible  that  a 
civilized  people  could  have  been  guilty  of  such 
barbarism.  But  all  sentiments  of  humanity 
appear  to  have  fled  from  France.  One  of  the 
queen's  women,  at  night,  would  draw  her  own 
bed  between  that  of  the  queen  and  the  open 
door,  that  she  might  thus  partially  shield  the 
person  of  her  royal  mistress.  The  kiujf  wat  ar 


1791.]     THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS.          226 

Dwpalr  of  the  king.  Supremacy  -of  the  mob 

utterly  overwhelmed  by  tho  magnitude  of  th« 
calamities  in  which  he  was  now  involved,  that 
his  mind/  for  a  season,  seemed  to  be  prostrated 
and  paralyzed  by  the  blow.  For  ten  days  he 
did  not  exchange  a  single  word  with  any  mom- 
ber  of  his  family,  but  moved  sadly  about  in  the 
apathy  of  despair,  or  sat  in  moody  silence.  At 
last  the  queen  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  be- 
fore him,  and,  presenting  to  him  her  children, 
besought  him,  for  her  sake  and  that  of  their  little 
ones,  to  rouse  his  fortitude.  "We  may  all  per- 
ish," she  said,  "  but  let  us,  at  least,  perish  like 
sovereigns,  and  not  wait  to  be  strangled  unre- 
sistingly upon  the  very  floor  of  our  apartments." 
The  long  and  dreary  months  of  the  autumn, 
the  winter,  and  the  spring  thus  passed  away,  with 
occasional  gleams  of  hope  visiting  their  minds, 
but  with  the  storm  of  revolution,  on  the  whole, 
growing  continually  more  black  and  terrific. 
General  anarchy  rioted  throughout  France. 
Murders  were  daily  committed  with  impunity. 
There  was  no  law.  The  mob  had  all  power  in 
their  hands.  Neither  the  king  nor  queen  could 
make  their  appearance  any  where  without  ex- 
posure to  insult.  Violent  harangues  in  the 
Assembly  and  in  the  streets  had  at  length  rous- 
ed tb<  populace  to  a  new  act  of  outrage.  The 
11—15 


MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1792 

A  brutal  assemblage.  Ferocious  Inscription 

immediate  cause  was  the  refusal  of  the  king  tt 
give  his  sanction  to  a  bill  for  the  persecution  of 
the  priests.  It  was  the  20th  of  June,  1792 
A  tumultuous  assemblage  of  all  the  miserable, 
degraded,  and  vicious,  who  thronged  the  gar- 
rets and  the  cellars  of  Paris,  and  who  had  been 
gathered  from  all  lands  by  the  lawlessness  with 
which  crime  could  riot  in  the  capital,  were  seen 
converging,  as  by  a  common  instinct,  toward 
the  palace.  They  bore  banners  fearfully  ex- 
pressive of  their  ferocity,  and  filled  the  air  with 
the  most  savage  outcries.  Upon  the  end  of  a 
pike  there  was  affixed  a  bleeding  heart,  with 
the  inscription,  "  The  heart  of  the  aristocracy.'' 
Another  bore  a  doll,  suspended  to  a  frame  by 
the  neck,  with  this  inscription,  "  To  the  gibbet 
with  the  Austrian."  With  the  ferocity  of 
wolves,  they  surrounded  the  palace  in  a  mass 
impenetrable.  The  king  and  queen,  as  they 
looked  from  their  windows  upon  the  multitu- 
dinous gathering,  swaying  to  and  fro  like  the 
billows  of  the  ocean  in  a  storm,  and  with  tho 
olamor  of  human  passions,  more  awful  than  the 
voice  of  many  waters,  rending  the  skies,  in- 
stinctively clung  to  one  another  and  to  theii 
children  in  their  power lessness.  Madame  Eliz- 
abeth, with  her  saint-like  spirit  and  h^i  heaven- 


1792.]      THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS          227 

tltanfc  »pon  the  palaco.  The  mob  forr*  M  atrmnce 

directed  thoughts,  was  ever  unmindful  of  her  own 
personal  danger  in  her  devotion  to  her  beloved 
brother.  The  king  hoped  that  the  soldiers  who 
crere  stationed  as  a  guard  within  the  inclosures 
of  the  palace  would  be  able  to  protect  them  from 
violence.  The  gates  leading  to  the  Place  du 
Carrousel  were  soon  shattered  beneath  the  blows 
of  axes,  and  the  human  torrent  poured  in  with 
the  resistlessness  of  a  flood.  The  soldiers  very 
deliberately  shook  the  priming  from  their  guns, 
as  the  emphatic  expression  to  the  mob  that  they 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  them,  and  the  artil- 
lerymen coolly  directed  their  pieces  against  the 
palace.  Axes  and  iron  bars  were  immediately 
leveled  at  the  doors,  and  they  flew  from  their 
hinges ;  and  the  drunken  and  infuriated  rabble, 
with  clubs,  and  pistols,  and  daggers,  poured, 
an  interminable  throng,  through  the  halls  and 
apartments  where  kings,  for  ages,  had  reigned 
in  inapproachable  pomp  and  power.  The  serr 
ant*  of  the  king,  in  terror,  fled  in  every  direo 
tioa.  Still  the  crowd  came  rushing  and  roai« 
ing  on,  crashing  the  doors  before  them,  till  they 
approached  the  apartment  in  which  the  royaJ 
family  was  secluded.  The  king,  who,  though 
deficient  in  active  energy,  possessed  passive  fear 
in  the  most  eminent  degree,  left  hi* 


228  MARIA   ANTOINETTE          [1792 

PearleMneM  of  the  king  The  mob  «wa4 

wife,  children,  and  sister  clinging  together,  and 
entered  the  adjoining  room  to  meet  his  assail- 
ants. Just  as  he  entered  the  room,  the  door, 
which  was  bolted,  fell  with  a  crash,  and  the 
mob  was  before  him.  For  a  moment  the  wretch- 
es were  held  at  bay  by  the  calm  dignity  of  tha 
monarch,  as,  without  the  tremor  of  a  nerve,  he 
gazed  steadily  upon  them.  The  crowd  in  the 
rear  pressed  on  upon  those  in  the  advance,  and 
three  friends  of  the  king  had  just  time  to  inter- 
pose themselves  between  him  and  the  mob, 
when  the  whole  dense  throng  rushed  in  and 
filled  the  room.  A  drunken  assassin,  with  a 
sharp  iron  affixed  to  a  long  pole,  aimed  a  thrust 
violently  at  the  king's  heart.  One  blow  from 
an  heroic  citizen  laid  him  prostrate  on  the  floor, 
and  he  was  trampled  under  the  feet  of  the  throng. 
Oaths  and  imprecations  filled  the  room ;  knives 
and  sabers  gleamed,  and  yet  the  majesty  of  roy- 
alty, for  a  few  brief  moments,  repelled  the  fe- 
rocity of  the  assassins.  A  few  officers  of  the 
National  Guard,  roused  by  the  peril  of  the  king, 
»uoceeded  in  reaching  him,  and,  crowding  him 
into  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  placed  them- 
selves  as  a  shield  before  him.  The  king  seem- 
ed only  anxious  to  withdraw  the  attention  of 
the  mob  from  the  room  in  which  his  family 


1792.J      THE   RKTURW  TO  PARIS.          229 

Courage  of  Madame  Elizabeth.  Crtn»  of  the  moU 

were  clustered,  where  he  saw  his  sister,  Ma- 
dame  Elizabeth,  with  extended  arms  and  im- 
ploring looks,  struggling  to  come  and  share  his 
fate.  "  It  is  the  queen  !"  was  the  cry,  and  a 
•core  of  weapons  were  turned  toward  her.  ' 4  No ! 
no !"  exclaimed  others,  "  it  is  Madame  Eliza- 
beth." Her  gentle  spirit,  even  in  these  degrad- 
ed hearts,  had  won  admiration,  and  not  a  blow 
fell  upon  her.  "  Ah !"  exclaimed  Madame  Eliz- 
abeth, "  why  do  you  undeceive  them  ?  Gladly 
would  I  die  in  her  place,  if  I  might  thus  save 
the  queen."  By  the  surging  of  the  crowd  she 
was  swept  into  the  embrasure  of  another  win- 
dow, where  she  was  hemmed  in  without  any 
possibility  of  extrication.  By  this  time  the 
crowds  were  like  locusts,  climbing  up  the  bal- 
conies, and  pouring  in  at  the  windows,  and  ev- 
ery foot  of  ground  around  the  palace  was  filled 
with  the  excited  throng.  Shouts  of  derision 
filled  the  air,  while  the  mob  without  were  in- 
cessantly crying,  "  Have  you  killed  them  yet  ? 
Throw  us  out  their  heads." 

Almost  miraculously,  the  friends  surround- 
ing the  king  succeeded  in  warding  off  the  blows 
which  were  aimed  at  him.  One  of  the  mob 
thrust  out  to  the  king,  upon  the  end  of  a  pike, 
*  red  bonnet.,  the  badge  of  the  Jacobins,  and 


J30  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

Fhe  red  bonnet  First  glimpaa  of  Napoleon 

there  was  a  general  shout,  "  Let  him  put  it  on ! 
iet  him  put  it  on !  It  is  a  sign  of  patriotism.  If 
he  is  a  patriot  he  will  wear  it."  The  king 
smiling,  took  the  bonnet  and  put  it  upon  his  head. 
Instantly  there  rose  a  shout  from  the  fickle  mul- 
titude, "  Vive  le  roi  /"  The  mob  had  achieved 
Its  victory,  and  placed  the  badge  of  its  power 
upon  the  brow  of  the  humbled  monarch. 

There  was  at  that  time  standing  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  palace  a  young  man,  with  the  blood 
boiling  with  indignation  in  his  veins,  in  view 
of  the  atrocities  of  the  mob.  The  ignominious 
spectacle  of  the  red  bonnet  upon  the  head  of 
the  king,  as  he  stood  in  the  recess  of  the  win- 
dow, seemed  more  than  this  young  man  could 
endure,  and,  turning  upon  his  heel,  he  hastened 
away,  exclaiming,  "  The  wretches !  the  wretch- 
es !  they  ought  to  be  mown  down  by  grape- 
shot."  This  is  the  first  glimpse  the  Revolution 
presents  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

But  wiile  the  king  was  enduring  their  tor- 
tures in  one  apartment,  the  queen  was  suffering 
ndignities  and  outrages  equally  atrocious  in 
another.  Maria  Antoinette  was,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  popu'ace,  the  personification  of  every  thing 
to  be  hated.  They  believed  her  to  be  infamous 
as  a  wife;  proud,  tyrannical,  and  treacherous; 


1792.]      THE  RETURN  TO  PARIS.  231 

The  queer's  apartments  Invaded.  Inaulted  by  abandon**!  women. 

that,  as  an  Austrian,  she  hated  France ;  that 
she  was  doing  all  in  her  power  to  induce  foreign 
armies  to  invade  the  French  empire  with  fire 
and  sword ;  and  that  she  had  instigated  the  king 
to  attempt  escape,  that  he  might  head  the  ar- 
mies. Maria,  conscious  of  this  hatred,  was 
%ware  that  her  presence  would  only  augment 
tne  tide  of  indignation  swelling  against  the  king, 
and  she  therefore  remained  in  the  bed-chamber 
with  her  children.  But  her  sanctuary  was  in- 
stantly invaded.  The  door  of  her  apartment 
bad  been,  by  some  friend,  closed  and  bolted 
Its  stout  oaken  panels  were  soon  dashed  in, 
and  the  door  driven  from  its  hinges.  A  crowd 
of  miserable  women,  abandoned  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  degradation  and  vulgarity,  rushed  into 
the  apartment,  assailing  her  ears  with  the  most 
obscene  and  loathsome  epithets  the  language 
oould  afford.  The  queen  stood  in  the  recess  of 
a  window,  with  queenly  pride  curbing  her  mor- 
tal apprehension.  A  few  friends  had  gathered 
around  her,  and  placed  a  table  before  her  a*  a 
partial  protection.  Her  daughter,  an  exceed- 
ingly beautiful  girl  of  fourteen  y«ars  of  age,  with 
her  light  brown  hair  floating  in  ringlets  over  her 
fair  brow  and  shoulders,  clung  to  her  mother5* 
bosom  as  if  sh*  thought  not  of  horso)  f,  but  would 


232  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.         11792. 


The  queen's  children.  The  young  gtoi 

only,  with  her  own  body,  shield  her  mother's 
heart  from  the  dagger  of  the  assassin.  Her  son, 
but  seven  years  old,  clung  to  his  mother's  hand, 
gazing  with  a  bewildered  look  of  terror  upon 
the  hideous  spectacle.  The  vociferations  of  the 
mob  were  almost  deafening.  But  the  aspect  of 
the  group,  so  lovely  and  so  helpless,  seemed  to 
disarm  the  hand  of  violence.  Now  and  then,  in 
the  endless  crowd  defiling  through  the  room, 
those  in  the  advance  pressed  resistlessly  on  by 
those  in  the  rear,  some  one  more  tender  hearted 
would  speak  a  word  of  sympathy.  A  young 
girl  came  crowded  along,  neatly  dressed,  and 
with  a  pleasing  countenance.  She,  however, 
immediately  began  to  revile  the  queen  in  the 
coarsest  language  of  vituperation. 

"  Why  do  you  hate  me  so,  my  friend  ?"  said 
the  queen,  kindly ;  "  have  I  ever  done  any  thing 
to  injure  or  to  offend  you  ?" 

"  No !  you  have  never  injured  me,"  was  the 
reply,  "  but  it  is  you  who  cause  the  misery  of 
the  nation." 

"Poor  child!"  rejoined  the  queen,  "yon  have 
been  told  so,  and  have  been  deceived.  Why 
should  I  make  the  people  miserable  ?  I  am  the 
wife  of  the  king — the  mother  of  the  dauphin ; 
and  by  all  the  feelings  of  my  hear*.  as  a  wife 


1792.]      THE   RETURN  TO  PARIS.          239 

Meeting  of  th«  Nation*!  Aj«embly.  The  king'*  friend*  derided 

and  mother,  I  am  a  Frenchwoman.  I  shall 
never  see  my  own  country  again.  I  can  onlv 
be  happy  or  unhappy  in  France.  I  was  happy 
when  you  loved  me." 

The  heart  of  the  girl  was  touched.  She  burst 
into  tears,  and  exclaimed,  "Pardon  me,  good 
queen,  I  did  not  know  you ;  but  now  I  see  that 
I  have  indeed  been  deceived,  and  you  are  truly 
good." 

Hour  after  hour  of  humiliation  and  agony 
thus  rolled  away.  The  National  Assembly  met, 
and  in  vain  the  friends  of  the  king  urged  its  ac- 
tion to  rescue  the  royal  family  from  the  insults 
and  perils  to  which  they  were  exposed.  But 
these  efforts  were  met  by  the  majority  only  with 
derision.  They  hoped  that  the  terrors  of  the 
mob  would  compel  the  king  hereafter  to  give 
his  assent  to  any  law  whatever  which  they 
might  frame.  At  last  the  shades  of  night  be- 
gan to  add  their  gloom  to  this  awful  scene,  and 
even  the  most  bitter  enemies  of  the  king  did 
not  think  it  safe  to  leave  forty  thousand  men, 
imflamed  with  intoxication  and  rage,  to  riot, 
through  the  hours  of  the  night,  in  the  parlors, 
halls,  and  chambers  of  the  Tuileries.  The  pres- 
ident of  the  Assembly,  at  that  late  hour,  crowded 
bis  way  into  the  apartment  where,  for  several 


234  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          ^1792 

The  president  of  the  Assembly.  The  mob  retire* 

hours,  the  king  had  been  exposed  to  every  con- 
ceivable indignity.  The  mysterious  authority 
of  law  opened  the  way  through  the  throng. 

"  I  have  only  just  learned,"  said  the  presi- 
dent, "  the  situation  of  your  majesty." 

"  That  is  very  astonishing,"  replied  the  king, 
indignantly,  "  for  it  is  a  long  time  that  it  ha» 
lasted." 

The  president,  mounted  upon  the  shoulders 
of  four  grenadiers,  addressed  the  mob  and  urged 
them  to  retire,  and  they,  weary  with  the  long 
hours  of  outrages,  slowly  sauntered  through  the 
halls  and  apartments  of  the  palace,  and  at  eight 
o'clock  silence  reigned,  with  the  gloom  of  night, 
throughout  the  Tuileries.  The  moment  the 
mob  became  perceptibly  less,  the  king  received 
his  sister  into  his  arms,  and  they  hastened  to 
the  apartment  of  the  queen.  During  all  the 
horrors  of  this  awful  day,  her  heroic  soul  had 
never  quailed;  but,  now  that  the  peril  wag 
over,  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bosom  of  her 
husband,  and  wept  in  all  the  bitterness  of  incon- 
solable grief  As  the  family  were  locked  in  each 
other's  arms  in  silent  gratitude  for  their  preser- 
vation, the  king  accidentally  beheld  iff  a  mirror 
the  red  bonnet,  which  he  had  forgotten  to  remove 
from  his  head  He  turned  red  with  mortifira- 


1792.]      THE  RETURN  TO  PARIS.          235 

Dnputfe*  Ttrit  tbe  royal  family.  Unfeettng  remvfc 

tion,  and,  casting  upon  the  floor  the  badge  of 
his  degradation,  turned  to  the  queen,  with  his 
ayee  filled  with  tears,  and  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  mm 
dame,  why  did  I  take  you  from  your  country,  to 
•wooiate  you  with  the  ignominy  of  such  a  day 
**  this!" 

After  the  withdrawal  of  the  mob,  several  of 
the  deputies  of  the  National  Assembly  were  in 
the  apartment  with  the  royal  family,  and,  as  the 
queen  recounted  the  horrors  of  the  last  five 
hours,  one  of  them,  though  bitterly  hostile  to 
the  royal  family,  could  not  refrain  from  tears. 
"  You  weep,"  said  she  to  him,  "  at  seeing  the 
king  and  his  family  so  cruelly  treated  by  a  peo- 
ple whom  he  always  wished  to  make  happy." 

"  True,  madame,"  unfeelingly  replied  the 
deputy,  "  I  weep  for  the  misfortunes  of  a  beau- 
tiful and  sensitive  woman,  the  mother  of  a  fam- 
ily. But  do  not  mistake  ;  not  one  of  my  tears 
falls  for  either  king  or  queen.  I  hate  kings  and 
queens.  It  is  the  only  feeling  they  inspire  me 
with.  It  is  my  religion." 

But  time  stops  not.  The  hours  of  a  dark 
and  gloomy  night,  succeeding  this  terrible  day, 
lingered  slowly  along,  but  no  sleep  visited  tht 
eyelids  of  the  inmates  of  the  Tuileries.  Scowl- 
ing guards  still  eyed  them  malignantly,  and  th« 


236  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [179*4 

SopeleM  condition  9f  the  royal  family.  Breast-plate  for  the  king 

royal  family  could  not  unbosom  to  one  another 
their  sorrows  but  in  the  presence  of  those  who 
were  hostile  spies  upon  every  word  and  action 
Escape  was  now  apparently  hopeless.  The 
svents  of  the  past  day  had  taught  them  that 
they  had  no  protection  against  popular  fury 
And  they  were  filled  with  the  most  gloomy  fore- 
oodings  of  woes  yet  to  come.  • 

These  scenes  occurred  on  the  20th  of  June, 
1792.  On  the  14th  of  July  of  the  same  year 
there  was  to  be  a  magnificent  fete  in  the  Champ 
de  Mars,  as  the  anniversary  of  the  independence 
of  the  nation.  The  king  and  queen  were  com 
pelled  to  be  present  to  grace  the  triumph  of  the 
people,  and  to  give  the  royal  oath.  It  was  an- 
ticipated that  there  would  be  many  attempts 
on  that  day  to  assassinate  the  king  and  queen 
Some  of  the  friends  of  the  royal  family  urged 
that  they  should  each  wear  a  breast-plate  which 
would  guard  against  the  first  stroke  of  a  dag- 
ger, and  thus  give  the  king's  friends  time  to  de- 
fend him.  A  breast-plate  was  secretly  made  for 
the  king.  It  consisted  of  fifteen  folds  of  Italian 
taffeta,  and  was  formed  into  an  under  waist 
coat  and  a  wide  belt.  Its  impenetrability  waa 
tried,  and  it  resisted  all  thrusts  of  the  dagger, 
and  several  balls  were  turned  aside  by  it  Ma 


1792.       THE  RETURN  TO  PARIS.  23? 

Dagger  proof  corset  for  the  queen.  F«te  In  the  Champ  de  Man 

dame  Campan  wore  it  for  three  days  as  an  un- 
der petticoat  before  an  opportunity  could  be 
found  for  the  king  to  try  it  on  unperceived 
At  length,  one  morning,  in  the  queen's  chamber, 
»  moment's  opportunity  occurred,  and  he  slip- 
ped it  on,  saying,  at  the  same  time,  to  Madame 
Campan,  "It  is  to  satisfy  the  queen  that  I  sub- 
mit to  this  inconvenience.  They  will  not  as- 
sassinate me.  Their  scheme  is  changed.  They 
will  put  me  to  death  in  another  way." 

A  dagger-proof  corset  had  also  been  prepared 
for  the  queen  without  her  knowledge.  She, 
however,  could  not  be  persuaded  to  wear  it 
"  If  they  assassinate  me,"  she  said,  "  it  will  be 
a  most  happy  event.  It  will  release  me  from 
the  most  sorrowful  existence,  and  may  save 
from  a  cruel  death  the  rest  of  the  family."  The 
14th  of  July  arrived.  The  king,  queen,  and 
dauphin  were  marched,  like  captives  gracing 
an  Oriental  triumph,  %t  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession, from  the  palace  to  the  Champ  de  Mars. 
With  pensive  features  and  saddened  hearts 
they  passed  along  through  the  single  file  of  sol- 
diers, who  were  barely  able  to  keep  at  bay  the 
raging  mob,  furious  for  their  blood,  and  male- 
dictions fell  heavily  upon  their  ears  from  a 
thousand  tongues.  The  fountain  of  tears  was* 


238  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

The  lait  appearance  of  the  royal  family  in  public. 

dry,  and  despair  had  nerved  them  with  stoi> 
cism.  They  returned  to  the  palace  in  the  deep- 
est dejection,  and  never  again  appeared  in  the 
streets  of  Paris  till  they  were  borne  to  theii 
execution. 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  239 

The  gneen  d»fly  tnen)t*d 


CHAPTER  IX. 
IMPRISONMENT  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 

EVERY  day  now  added  to  the  insults  and 
anguish  the  royal  family  were  called  to  en- 
dure. They  were  under  such  apprehension  of 
having  their  food  poisoned,  that  all  the  articles 
placed  upon  the  table  by  the  attendants,  pro- 
vided by  the  Assembly,  were  removed  untouch- 
ed, and  they  ate  and  drank  nothing  but  what 
was  secretly  provided  by  one  of  the  ladies  of  the 
bed-chamber.  One  day  the  queen  stood  at  her 
window,  looking  out  sadly  into  the  garden  of 
the  Tuileries,  when  a  soldier,  standing  under 
the  window,  with  his  bayonet  upon  his  gun, 
looked  up  to  her  and  said,  "  I  wish,  Austrian 
woman,  that  I  had  your  head  upon  my  bayonet 
here,  that  I  might  pitch  it  over  the  wall  to  the 
dogs  in  the  street."  And  this  man  was  placed 
tinder  her  window  ostensibly  for  her  protection! 
Whenever  the  queen  made  her  appearance  in 
the  garden,  she  encountered  insults  often  too 
outrageous  to  be  related.  An  assassin,  one 
night,  with  his  sharpened  dagger,  endeavored  tc 


240  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          11792 

in  amnnnln  in  the  queen's  chamber.  The  allied  army 

penetratd  her  chamber.  She  was  awoke  by  the 
noise  of  the  struggle  with  the  guard  at  the  doc  r. 
The  assassin  was  arrested.  "  What  a  life !"  ex- 
claimed  the  queen.  "Insults  by  day,  and  as- 
sassins by  night !  But  let  him  go.  He  came 
to  murder  me.  Had  he  succeeded,  the  Jacobins 
would  have  borne  him  to-morrow  in  triumpn 
through  the  streets  of  Paris." 

The  allied  army,  united  with  the  emigrants,* 
in  a  combined  force  of  nearly  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  men,  now  entered  the  frontiers  of 
France,  to  rescue,  by  military  power,  the  royal 
family.  They  issued  a  proclamation,  in  which 
it  was  stated  that  "  the  allied  sovereigns  had 
taken  up  arms  to  stop  the  anarchy  which  pre- 
vailed in  France — to  give  liberty  to  the  king, 
and  restore  him  to  the  legitimate  authority  of 
which  he  had  been  deprived."  The  proclama- 
tion assured  the  people  of  Paris  that,  if  they  did 
not  immediately  liberate  the  king  and  return 
to  their  allegiance,  the  city  of  Paris  should  be 
totally  destroyed,  and  that  the  enemies  of  the 
king  should  forfeit  their  heads.  This  proclama- 
tion,  with  the  invasion  of  the  French  territory 
by  the  allied  army,  fanned  to  the  intensest  fury 
the  flames  of  passion  already  raging  in  all  parts 
•f  the  empire.  Thousands  of  young  men  froiu 


1792.1  IMPRISONMENT.  241 


f  «rflea  in  Fr»nc*i.  The  RoyallaU,  Oirondlctl,  and  Jscobuu 

all  the  provinces  thronged  into  the  city,  breath- 
ing vengeance  against  the  royal  family.  In 
vain  did  the  king  declare  his  disapproval  of  these 
violent  measures  on  the  part  of  the  allies.  In 
vain  did  he  assert  his  readiness  to  head  the  ar- 
mies of  France  to  repel  invasion. 

There  were  now  three  important  parties  in 
France  struggling  for  power.  The  first  was 
that  of  the  king,  and  the  nobles  generally,  wish- 
ing for  the  re-establishment  of  the  monarchy. 
The  second  was  that  of  the  Girondists,  wishing 
for  the  dethronement  of  the  king  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  republic,  with  the  power  in  the 
hands  of  the  most  influential  citizens  in  intelli- 
gence and  wealth.  The  third  was  that  of  the 
ultra  Democrats  or  Jacobins,  who  wished  to 
raise  the  multitude  from  degradation,  penury, 
and  infamy,  into  power,  by  the  destruction  of 
the  throne,  and  the  subjection  of  the  middling 
classes,  and  the  entire  subversion  of  all  the  dis^ 
tinctions  of  wealth  and  rank.  The  approach  of 
the  allies  united  both  of  these  latter  classet 
against  the  throne.  A  motion  was  immediately 
introduced  into  the  Assembly  that  the  monar- 
chy be  entirely  abolished,  and  a  mob  rioting 
through  Paris  threatened  the  deputies  with 
death  an  I  ess  they  dethroned  the  king.  But  an 
11—16 


342  MJ.RIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

Consternation  In  Paris.  The  kinp's  dethroaamMl 

army  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men 
were  marching  upon  Paris,  and  the  deputies 
feared  a  terrible  retribution  if  this  new  insuU 
were  heaped  upon  their  sovereign.  No  person 
can  describe  the  confusion  and  consternation 
with  which  the  metropolis  of  France  was  filled. 
The  mob  declared,  on  the  9th  of  August,  that, 
unless  the  dethronement  were  that  day  pro- 
nounced, they  would  that  night  sack  the  palace, 
and  bear  the  heads  of  the  royal  family  through 
the  streets  upon  their  pikes.  The  Assembly, 
undecided,  and  trembling  between  the  two  op- 
posing perils,  separated  without  the  adoption  of 
any  resolve.  All  knew  that  a  night  of  dreadful 
tumult  and  violence  must,  ensue.  Some  hund- 
reds of  gentlemen  collected  around  the  king 
and  queen,  resolved  to  perish  with  them.  Sev- 
eral regiments  of  soldiers  were  placed  in  and 
around  the  palace  to  drive  back  the  rnob,  but 
it  was  well  known  that  the  troops  would  mere 
willingly  fraternize  with  the  multitude  than  op- 
pose them.  The  sun  went  down,  and  the  street 
lamps  feebly  glimmered  through  the  darkness 
of  the  night  The  palace  was  filled  with  armed 
men.  The  gentlemen  surrounding  the  king 
were  all  conscious  of  their  utter  inability  to  pro- 
tect him.  They  had  come  lut  to  share  the  fate 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  243 

BOOM  from  the  palace.  Gmthertaf  of  the  mob 

of  their  sovereign.  The  queen  and  the  Princesi 
Elizabeth  ascended  to  an  upper  part  of  the  pal- 
ace, and  stepped  from  a  low  window  into  the 
dark  shadow  of  a  balcony  to  look  out  upon  the 
tamultuous  city.  The  sound,  as  of  the  gather 
Ing  of  a  resistless  storm,  swept  through  all  the 
streets,  and  rose  loud  and  threatening  above  the 
usual  roar  of  the  vast  metropolis.  The  solemn 
tones  of  the  alarm  bells,  pealing  through  the 
night  air,  summoned  all  the  desperadoes  of 
France  to  their  several  places  of  rendezvous,  to 
march  upon  the  palace.  The  rumbling  of  ar- 
tillery wheels,  and  the  frequent  discharge  of 
musketry,  proclaimed  the  determination  and 
the  desperation  of  the  intoxicated  mob.  In 
darkness  and  silence,  the  queen  and  her  sister 
stood  listening  to  these  fearful  sounds,  and  their 
hearts  throbbed  violently  in  view  of  the  terrible 
scene  through  which  they  knew  that  they  must 
pass.  The  queen,  pale  but  tearless,  and  nerved 
to  the  utmost  by  queenly  pride,  descended  to 
the  rooms  below.  She  walked  into  the  chamber 
where  her  beautiful  son  was  sleeping,  gazed 
earnestly  upon  him  for  a  moment,  bent  over 
him,  and  imprinted  upon  his  cheek  a  mother's 
kiss— and  yet  without  a  tear.  She  entered  th« 
apartment  of  her  daughter — lovely,  suroassing* 


844  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [I7i/4 

The  queen  with  her  children.  Brutal  remarks  of  the  troops 

ly  lovely  in  all  the  blooming  beauty  of  fifteen. 
The  princess,  comprehending  the  peril  of  the 
hour,  could  not  sleep.  Maria  pressed  her  child 
to  her  throbbing  heart,  and  the  pride  of  the 
queen  was  soon  vanquished  by  the  tenderness 
of  the  mother,  as  with  convulsive  energy  she 
embraced  her,  and  wept  in  anguish  almost  un- 
endurable. Shouts  of  unfeeling  derision  arose 
from  the  troops  below,  stationed  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  royal  family,  and  their  ears  were  as- 
sailed by  remarks  of  the  most  brutal  barbarity. 
Hour  after  hour  of  the  night  lingered  along,  the 
clamor  without  incessantly  increasing,  and  the 
crowds  surrounding  the  palace  augmenting 
The  excitement  within  the  palace  was  so  awful 
that  no  words  could  give  it  utterance.  The  few 
hundred  gentlemen  who  had  come  so  heroically 
to  share  the  fate  of  their  sovereign  were  aware 
that  no  resistance  could  be  made  to  the  tens  of 
thousands  who  were  thirsting  for  their  blood. 

Midnight  came.  It  was  fraught  with  horror 
The  queen,  in  utter  exhaustion,  threw  herself 
upon  a  sofa.  At  that  moment  a  musket  shoi 
was  fired  in  the  court-yard.  "  There  is  the  first 
shot,"  said  the  queen,  with  the  calmness  of  de- 
spair, "  but  it  will  not  be  the  last.  Let  us  go 
and  be  with  the  king."  At  length,  from  the 


1792.]  IMPRISONMRMT. 

Rising  of  die  ran.  Disaffection  if  the  troopa 

windows  of  their  apartment,  a  few  gleams  of 
light  began  to  redden  the  eastern  sky.  "  Come," 
said  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  "  and  see  the  rising 
gun."  Maria  went  mournfully  to  the  window, 
gazed  long  and  steadfastly  upon  the  rising  lu- 
minary, feeling  that,  before  that  day's  sun 
should  go  down,  she  and  all  whom  she  loved 
would  be  in  another  world.  It  was  an  awful 
spectacle  which  the  light  of  day  revealed.  All 
the  avenues  to  the  palace  were  choked  with  in- 
toxicated thousands.  The  gardens,  and  the 
court-yard  surrounding  the  palace,  were  filled 
with  troops,  placed  there  for  the  protection  of 
the  sovereign,  but  evidently  sympathizing  with 
the  mob,  with  whom  they  exchanged  badges  and 
friendly  greetings.  The  queen,  apprehensive 
that  the  children  might  be  massacred  in  their 
beds,  had  them  dressed,  and  placed  by  the  side 
of  herself  and  the  king.  It  was  recommended 
to  the  king  that  he  should  go  down  into  the 
court-yard,  among  the  troops  stationed  there  for 
his  defense ;  that  his  presence  might  possibly 
awaken  sympathy  and  enthusiasm  in  his  behalf. 
The  king  and  queen,  with  their  son  and  daugh- 
ter, and  Madame  Elizabeth,  went  down  with 
throbbing  hearts  to  visit  the  ranks  of  their  de- 
fenders. They  were  received  with  derisive  io 


246  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [179^5 

Extremity  <if  the  royal  family.  Spirit  of  the  queen 

suite  and  hootings.  Some  of  the  gunners  left 
their  posts,  and  thrust  their  fists  into  the  face 
of  the  long,  insulting  him  with  menaces  the 
most  brutal  They  instantly  returned  to  the 
palace,  pallid  with  indignation  and  despair. 

Soon  an  officer  came  in  and  informed  the 
king  that  all  resistance  was  hopeless  ;  that  six 
pieces  of  artillery  were  already  pointed  against 
the  main  door  of  the  palace  ;  that  a  mob  of 
countless  thousands,  well  armed,  and  dragging 
with  them  twelve  heavy  cannon,  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  scene  of  conflict ;  that  the  whole 
populace  of  Paris  were  up  in  arms  against  the 
king,  and  that  no  reliance  whatever  could  be 
placed  in  the  soldiers  stationed  for  his  defense. 
"  There  is  not,"  said  he,  "  a  single  moment  to 
lose.  You  will  all  inevitably  and  immediately 
perish,  unless  you  hasten  to  the  hall  where  the 
Assembly  is  in  session,  and  place  yourself  un- 
der the  protection  of  that  body."  The  pride  of 
the  queen  was  intensely  aroused  in  view  of  ap- 
pealing to  the  Assembly,  their  bitterest  enemy, 
for  succor,  and  she  indignantly  replied,  "  I  would 
rather  be  nailed  to  the  walls  of  the  palace  than 
leave  it  to  take  refuge  in  the  Assembly."  And 
the  heroism  of  Maria  Theresa  instinctively  in- 
spiring her  bosom,  she  seized,  from  the  belt  of 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT  347 

The  king'*  c*lm»f>M.  The  mother  and  the  qaee* 

an  officer,  two  pistols,  and,  presenting  them  to 
the  king,  exclaimed,  "  Now,  sire,  is  the  time 
to  show  yourself,  and  if  we  must  perish,  let  us 
perish  with  glory."  The  king  calmly  received 
the  pistols,  and  silentfy  handed  them  back  te 
the  officer. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  messenger,  "  are  yor 
prepared  to  take  upon  yourself  the  responsibility 
of  the  death  of  the  king,  of  yourself,  of  your 
children,  and  of  all  who  are  here  to  defend  you  ? 
All  Paris  is  on  the  march.  Time  presses.  In 
a  few  moments  it  will  be  too  late."  The  queen 
cast  a  glance  upon  her  daughter,  and  a  mother's 
fears  prevailed.  The  crimson  blood  mounted  to 
her  temples.  Then,  again,  she  was  pale  as  a 
corpse.  Then,  rising  from  her  seat,  she  said, 
"  Let  us  go."  It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

The  king  and  queen,  with  their  two  children, 
Madame  Elizabeth,  and  a  few  personal  friends, 
descended  the  great  stair-case  of  the  Tuileriaa, 
to  pass  out  through  the  bands  of  soldiers  and 
the  tumultuous  mob  to  the  hall  of  the  Assem- 
bly. At  the  stair-case  there  was  a  large  con- 
course  of  men  and  women,  gesticulating  with 
fury,  who  refused  to  permit  the  royal  famiy  to 
depart  The  tumult  was  such  that  the  mem* 


248  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

The  royal  family  take  refuge  in  the  Auembly.  The  king'*  ipeech 

bers  of  the  royal  family  were  separated  from 
each  other ,  and  thus  they  stood  for  a  moment 
mingled  with  the  crowd,  listening  to  language 
of  menace  and  insult,  when  a  deputy  assured 
the  mob  that  an  order  of  the  Assembly  had  sum- 
moned the  royal  family  to  them.  The  rioters 
then  gave  way,  and  the  mournful  group  passed 
out  of  the  door  into  the  garden.  They  forced 
their  way  along,  surrounded  by  a  few  friends, 
through  imprecations,  insults,  gleaming  dag- 
gers, and  dangers  innumerable,  until  they  ar- 
rived at  the  hall  of  the  Assembly,  which  the 
king  was  with  difficulty  enabled  to  enter,  in 
consequence  of  the  immense  concourse  which 
crowded  him,  thirsting  for  his  blood,  and  yet 
held  back  by  an  unseen  hand.  As  the  king  en- 
tered the  hall,  he  said,  with  dignity,  to  the  pres- 
ident, "I  have  come  here  to  save  the  nation 
from  the  commission  of  a  great  crime.  I  shall 
always  consider  myself,  with  my  family,  safe  in 
your  hands."  The  royal  family  sat  down  upoc 
a  bench.  Mournful  silence  pervaded  the  hall 
A  more  sorrowful,  heart-rending  sight  mortal 
eyes  have  seldom  seen.  The  father,  the  moth- 
er, the  saint-like  sister,  the  innocent  and  help- 
less children,  had  found  but  a  momentary  ref- 
uge from  cannibals,  who  were  roaring  like 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  349 

Tba  Kpiare  box.  Th*  Wag'i  Mranity 

wolves  around  the  hall,  and  battering  at  the 
doors  to  break  in  and  slake  their  vengeance 
with  blood.  It  was  seriously  apprehended  that 
the  mob  would  make  a  rush,  and  sprinkle  the 
blood  of  the  royal  family  upon  the  very  floor  of 
the  sanctuary  where  they  had  sought  a  refuge. 
Behind  the  seat  of  the  president  there  was  a 
oox  about  ten  feet  square,  constituting  a  seat 
reserved  for  reporters,  guarded  by  an  iron  rail- 
ing. Into  this  box  the  royal  family  were  crowd- 
ed for  safety.  A  few  friends  of  the  king  gath- 
ered around  the  box.  The  heat  of  the  day  was 
almost  insupportable.  Not  a  breath  of  air  could 
penetrate  the  closely-packed  apartment;  and 
the  heat,  as  of  a  furnace,  glowed  in  the  room. 
Scarcely  had  the  royal  family  got  into  this  frail 
retreat,  when  the  noise  without  informed  them 
that  their  friends  were  falling  before  the  daggers 
of  assassins,  and  the  greatest  alarm  was  felt  lest 
the  doors  should  be  driven  in  by  the  merciless 
mob.  In  this  awful  hour,  the  king  appeared 
as  calm,  serene,  and  unconcerned  as  if  he  were 
the  spectator  of  a  scene  in  which  he  had  no  in- 
terest. The  countenance  of  the  queen  exhib- 
ited all  the  nnvanquished  firmness  of  her  soul, 
as  with  Hushed  cheek  and  indignant  eye  she 
looked  upon  the  drama  of  terror  and  confusion* 


250  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

The  mob  at  the  palace.  Brutal  massacre  of  the  king's  friend* 

which  was  passing.  The  young  princess  wept, 
and  her  cheeks  were  marked  with  the  furrows 
which  her  tears,  dried  by  the  heat,  had  left. 
The  young  dauphin  appeared  as  cool  and  self- 
possessed  as  his  father.  The  rattling  fire  of  ar- 
tillery, and  the  report  of  musketry  at  the  palace, 
proclaimed  to  the  royal  family  and  the  affrighted 
deputies  the  horrid  conflict,  or,  rather,  massacre 
which  was  raging  there.  Immediately  after  the 
king  and  queen  had  left  the  Tuileries,  the  mob 
broke  in  at  every  avenue.  A  few  hundred 
Swiss  soldiers  left  there  remained  faithful  to 
the  king.  The  conflict  was  short — the  massa- 
ore  awful.  The  infuriated  multitude  rushed 
through  the  halls  and  the  apartments  of  the 
spacious  palace,  murdering,  without  mercy  and 
without  distinction  of  age  or  sex,  all  the  friends 
of  the  king  whom  they  encountered.  The  mu- 
tilated bodies  were  thrown  out  of  the  windows 
to  the  mob  which  filled  the  garden  and  the  court 
The  wretched  inmates  of  the  palace  fled,  pur- 
sued in  every  direction.  But  concealment  and 
escape  were  alike  hopeless.  Some  poor  crea- 
tures' leaped  from  the  windows  and  clambered 
np  the  marble  monuments.  The  wretches  re- 
frained from  firing  at  them,  lest  they  should  in- 
jure the  statuary,  but  pricked  them  with  theii 


1792.]  IMPRISONMEHT.  251 

•>%»  mob  »ok  th«  fmlmee.          Th«  dead  bodle«  of  the  Ro»%ll«t«  burned 

bayonets  till  they  compelled  them  to  drop  down, 
and  then  murdered  them  at  their  feet.  A  pack 
of  wolves  could  not  have  been  more  merciless. 
The  populace,  now  rising  in  their  resistlest 
power,  with  no  law  and  no  authority  to  restrain 
them,  gave  loose  rein  to  vengeance,  and,  having 
glutted  themselves  with  blood,  proceeded  tt>  sack 
f  >  palace.  Its  magnificent  furniture,  and 
splendid  mirrors,  and  costly  paintings,  were 
dashed  to  pieces  and  thrown  from  the  windows, 
when  the  fragments  were  eagerly  caught  by 
those  below  and  piled  up  for  bonfires.  Drunken 
wretches  staggered  through  all  the  most  private 
apartments,  threw  themselves,  with  blood-soak 
ed  boots,  upon  the  bed  of  the  queen,  ransacked 
her  drawers,  made  themselves  merry  over  her 
notes,  and  letters,  and  the  various  articles  of  her 
toilet,  and  polluted  the  very  air  of  the  palace 
by  their  vulgar  and  obscene  ribaldry.  As  night 
approached,  huge  fires  were  built,  upon  which 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  massacred  Royalists  were 
thrown,  and  all  were  consumed. 

During  all  the  long  hours  of  that  dreadful 
day,  and  until  two  o'clock  tJie  ensuing  night, 
the  royal  family  remained,  almost  without  a 
change  of  posture,  in  the  narrow  seat  which  had 
nerved  them  ror  an  asylum.  Who  can  measure 


252  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1792 

fhe  king  dethroned.  Th«  royal  family  removed  to  the  Peuillanti 

the  amount  of  their  endurance  during  these 
fifteen  hours  of  woe  ?  An  act  was  passed,  du 
ring  this  time,  in  obedience  to  the  demands  of 
the  mob,  dethroning  the  king.  The  hour  of 
midnight  had  now  come  and  gone,  and  still  the 
royal  sufferers  were  in  their  comfortless  impris- 
onment, half  dead  with  excitement  and  exhaus- 
tion. The  young  dauphin  had  fallen  asleep  in 
his  mother's  arms.  Madame  Elizabeth  and  the 
princess,  entirely  unnerved,  were  sobbing  with 
uncontrollable  grief.  The  royal  family  were 
then  transferred,  for  the  remainder  of  the  night, 
to  some  deserted  and  unfurnished  rooms  in  the 
old  monastery  of  the  Feuillants.  Some  beds 
and  mattresses  were  hastily  collected,  and  a 
few  coarse  chairs  for  their  accommodation.  As 
soon  as  they  had  entered  these  cheerless  rooms, 
and  were  alone,  the  king  prostrated  himself  upon 
his  knees,  with  his  family  clinging  around  him, 
and  gave  utterance  to  the  prayer,  "  Thy  trials, 
O  God !  are  dreadful.  Give  us  courage  to  bear 
them.  We  adore  the  hand  which  chastens,  as 
that  which  has  so  often  blessed  us.  Have  mercy 
on  those  who  have  died  fighting  in  our  defense." 
Utter  exhaustion  enabled  the  unhappy  family 
to  find  a  few  hours  of  agitated  sleep.  The  sun 
arose  Jio  ensuing  morning  with  burning  rays, 


1792  IMPRISONMENT  268 

Bitter  lufferingB  of  the  royal  family.  Taken  back  to  the  Assembly 

and,  as  they  fell  upon  the  eyelids  of  the  queen, 
she  looked  wildly  around  her  for  a  moment  upon 
the  cheerless  scene,  and  then,  with  a  shudder, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh!  I  hoped  it  was  all  a  dream,** 
buried  her  face  again  in  her  pillow.  The  attend 
ants  around  her  burst  into  tears.  "  Yon  see,  my 
unhappy  friends,"  said  Maria,  "  a  woman  even 
more  unhappy  than  yourselves,  for  she  has 
caused  all  your  misfortunes."  The  queen  wept 
•  bitterly  as  she  was  informed  of  the  massacre  of 
her  friends  the  preceding  day.  Already  the 
royal  family  felt  the  pressure  of  poverty.  They 
were  penniless,  and  had  to  borrow  some  gar- 
ments for  the  children.  The  king  and  queen 
could  make  no  change  in  their  disordered  dress. 
At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  guard  came 
and  conducted  the  royal  family  again  to  the  As- 
sembly. Immediately  the  hall  was  surrounded 
by  a  riotous  mob,  clamoring  for  their  blood.  At 
one  moment  the  outer  doors  were  burst  open, 
and  the  blood-thirsty  wretches  made  a  rush  for 
the  interior.  The  king,  believing  that  their 
final  hour  had  come,  begged  his  friends  to  seek 
their  own  safety,  and  abandon  him  and  his  fam- 
ily to  their  fate.  The  day  of  agitation  and  ter- 
ror, however,  passed  away,  and,  as  the  gloom  of 
night  again  darkened  the  city,  the  illustrious" 


IB       MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

The  royal  family  consigned  to  the  Temple.  Advance  of  tb*  allle* 

sufferers  were  reconveyed  to  the  Feuillants. 
All  their  friends  were  driven  from  them,  and 
guards  were  placed  over  them,  who,  by  rudeness 
and  insults,  did  what  they  could  to  add  bitter- 
ness to  their  captivity. 

It  was  decided  by  the  Assembly  that,  they 
should  all  be  removed  to  the  prison  of  the  Tern- 
pie.  At  three  o'clock  the  next  day  two  car- 
riages were  brought  to  the  door,  and  the  royal 
family  wore  conveyed  through  the  thronged 
streets  and  by  the  most  popular  thoroughfares 
to  the  prison.  The  enemies  of  royalty  appeared 
to  court  the  ostentatious  display  of  its  degrada 
tion.  As  the  carriages  were  slowly  dragged 
along,  an  immense  concourse  of  spectators  lined 
the  way,  and  insults  and  derision  were  heaped 
upon  them  at  every  step.  At  last,  after  two 
hours,  in  which  they  were  constrained  to  drain 
the  cup  of  ignominy  to  its  dregs,  the  carriages 
rolled  under  the  gloomy  arches  of  the  Temple, 
and  their  prison  doors  were  closed  against  them 

In  the  mean  time  tne  allied  army  was  advanc- 
ing with  rapid  strides  toward  the  city.  The 
most  dreadful  consternation  jeigned  in  the  me- 
tro»x>li».  The  populace  rose  in  it*  rage  to  mas- 
sacre all  suspected  of  being  in  f»ror  of  royalty 
The  prisons  were  crowded  with  the  victim*  of 


1792.J  IMPRISONMENT.  255 


suspicion.  The  rage  of  the  mob  would  not  wait 
for  trial.  The  prison  doors  were  burst  open, 
and  a  general  and  awful  massacre  ensued. 
There  was  no  mercy  shown  to  the  innocence 
of  youth  or  to  female  helplessness.  The  streets 
of  Paris  were  red  with  the  blood  of  its  purest 
citizens,  and  the  spirit  of  murder,  with  unre- 
strained license,  glutted  its  vengeance.  In  ono 
awful  day  and  night  many  thousands  perished 
The  walls  of  rock  and  iron  of  the  Temple  alone 
protected  the  royal  family  from  a  similar  fate. 
The  Temple  was  a  dismal  fortress  which 
stood  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  a  gloomy  memorial 
of  past  ages  of  violence  and  crime.  It  was  sit- 
uated not  far  from  the  Uastile,  and  inclosed 
within  its  dilapidated  yet  massive  walls  a  vast 
space  of  silence  and  desolation.  In  former  ages 
cowled  monks  had  moved  with  noiseless  tread 
through  its  spacious  corridors,  and  their  matins 
and  vespers  had  vibrated  along  the  stone  arch- 
es of  this  melancholy  pile.  But  now  weeds 
choked  its  court-yard,  and  no  sounds  were  heard 
in  its  deserted  apartments  but  the  shrieking  of 
the  wind  as  it  rushed  through  the  grated  win- 
dows and  whistled  around  the  angles  of  tha 
towers.  The  shades  of  night  were  adding  it 
the  gloom  of  this  wretched  abode  as  the  cap 


256  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1792. 

Tower  of  the  Temple.  Apartments  of  tho  royal  family. 

tives  wore  led  into  its  deserted  and  unfurnished 
cells.  It  was  after  midnight  before  the  roomb 
for  their  imprisonment  were  assigned  to  them. 
It  was  a  night  of  Egyptian  darkness.  Soldiera 
with  drawn  swords  guarded  them,  as,  by  tho 
light  of  a  lantern,  they  picked  their  way  through 
the  rank  weeds  of  the  castle  garden,  and  over 
piles  of  rubbish,  to  a  stone  tower,  some  thirty 
feet  square  and  sixty  feet  high,  to  whose  damp, 
cheerless,  and  dismal  apartments  they  were  con- 
signed.  "  Where  are  you  conducting  us  ?"  in- 
quired a  faithful  servant  who  had  followed  the 
fortunes  of  his  royal  master.  The  officer  re- 
plied, "  Thy  master  has  been  used  to  gilded 
roofs,  but  now  he  will  see  how  the  assassins  of 
the  people  are  lodged." 

Madame  Elizabeth  was  placed  in  a  kind  of 
kitchen,  or  wash-room,  with  a  truckle  bed  in  it, 
on  the  ground  floor.  The  second  floor  of  the 
Tower  was  assigned  to  the  attendants  of  the 
household.  One  common  wooden  bedstead  and 
a  few  old  chairs  were  the  only  furniture  af 
the  room.  The  third  floor  was  assigned  to  the 
king,  and  queen,  and  the  two  children.  A  foot- 
man had  formerly  slept  in  the  room,  and  had 
left  suspended  upon  the  walls  some  coarse  and 
vulgar  prints.  Tin  king,  immediately  glancing 


THE  TOWKB  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 


11—17 


1792.]  IMPRISQNMKNT.  251* 

Otwcene  pictures.  Resource*  of  th«  prtan> 

at  them,  took  them  down  and  turned  their  faces 
to  the  wall,  exclaiming,  "  I  would  not  have  my 
daughter  see  such  things."  The  king  and  the 
children  soon  fell  soundly  asleep  ;  but  no  re- 
pose came  to  the  agita  >al  mind  of  Maria  An- 
toinette. Her  lofty  anrf  unbending  spirit  felt 
these  indignities  and  atrocities  too  keenly.  She 
spent  the  night  in  silent  tears,  and  indulging  in 
the  most  gloomy  forebodings  of  the  fate  which 
yet  awaited  them. 

The  morning  sun  arose,  but  to  show  still  more 
clearly  the  dismal  aspect  of  the  prison.  But 
few  rays  could  penetrate  the  narrow  windows 
of  the  tower,  and  blinds  of  oaken  plank  were  so 
constructed  that  the  inmates  could  only  look  out 
upon  the  sky.  A  very  humble  breakfast  was 
provided  for  them,  and  then  they  began  to  look 
about  to  see  what  resources  their  prison  afforded 
to  beguile  the  weary  hours.  A  few  books  were 
found,  such  as  an  odd  volume  of  Horace,  and 
a  few  volumes  of  devotional  treatises,  which 
had  long  been  slumbering,  moth-eaten,  in  these 
deserted  cells,  where,  in  ages  that  were  past 
monks  had  performed  their  severe  devotions 
The  king  immediately  systematized  the  hours, 
and  sat  down  to  the  regular  employment  of 
teaching  his  children  The  son  and  the  daugh- 


260  MJRI\  ANTOINETTE  [1792 

Employment!  of  the  rojrm.  funflj.  Severe  restriction* 

tor,  with  minds  prematurely  developed  by  the 
agitations  and  excitements  in  the  midst  of  which 
they  had  been  cradled,  clung  to  their  parents 
with  the  most  tender  affection,  and  mitigated 
the  horrors  of  their  captivity  by  manifesting  the 
most  engaging  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  by 
prosecuting  their  studies  with  untiring  vigor. 
The  queen  and  Madame  Elizabeth  employed 
themselves  with  their  needles.  They  break- 
fasted at  nine  o'clock,  and  then  devoted  the  fore- 
noon to  reading  and  study.  At  one  o'clock  they 
were  permitted  to  walk  for  an  hour,  for  exercise, 
in  the  court-yard  of  the  prison,  which  had  long 
been  consigned  to  the  dominion  of  rubbish  and 
weeds.  But  in  these  walks  they  were  daily 
exposed  to  the  most  cruel  insults  from  the  guards 
that  were  stationed  over  them.  At  two  o'clock 
they  dined.  During  the  long  hours  of  the  even- 
ing the  king  read  aloud.  At  night,  the  queen 
prepared  the  children  for  bed,  and  heard  them 
repeat  their  prayers.  Every  day,  however 
more  severe  restrictions  were  imposed  upon  the 
captives.  They  were  soon  deprived  of  pens  and 
paper ;  and  then  scissors,  knives,  and  even  need- 
les were  taken  away,  under  the  pretense  thai 
they  might  be  the  instruments  of  suicide.  They 
were  allowed  no  communication  cf  any  kind 


17^2.]  IMPRISONMENT.  2(55$ 

Manner  of  obtaining  new*.  The  PrineeM  LamwJU. 

with  their  friends  without,  and  were  debarre* 
from  all  acquaintance  with  any  thing  trans- 
piring  in  the  world.  In  that  gloomy  tower  of 
stone  and  iron  they  were  buried.  A  faithful 
servant,  however,  adroitly  opened  communica- 
tion with  a  news  boy,  who,  under  the  pretense 
of  selling  the  daily  papers,  recounted  under  their 
prison  windows,  in  as  loud  a  voice  as  he  could, 
the  leading  articles  of  the  journals  he  had  for 
sale.  The  servant  listened  at  the  window  with 
the  utmost  care,  and  then  privately  communi- 
cated the  information  to  the  king  and  queen. 

The  fate  of  the  Princess  Lamballe,  who  p<  r- 
ished  at  this  time,  is  highly  illustrative  of  the 
horrors  in  the  midst  of  which  all  the  Royalists 
lived.  This  lovely  woman,  left  a  widow  at 
eighteen,  was  attracted  to  the  queen  by  her 
misfortunes,  and  became  her  most  intimate  and 
devoted  friend.  She  lodged  in  an  apartment 
adjoining  to  the  queen's,  that  she  might  share 
all  her  perils.  Occasionally  the  princess  was 
absent  to  watch  over  and  cheer  an  aged  friend 
the  Duke  de  Penthievre,  her  father-in-law,  who 
resided  at  the  Chateau  de  Vernon.  She  had 
gone  a  short  time  before  the  20th  of  June  to 
risit  the  aged  duke,  and  Maria  Antoinette,  who 
oresaw  the  terrible  storm  about  to  burst  upon 


264  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.  [1792 

Marlm'i  letter  to  the  PrlnceM  de  Lambulle.  She  rujolni  the  que«n 

them,  wrote  the  following  touching  letter  to  hei 
friend,  urging  her  not  to  return  to  the  sufferings 
and  dangers  of  the  Tuileries.  The  letter  was 
found  in  the  hair  of  the  Princess  de  Lamballe 
after  her  assassination. 

"  Do  not  leave  Vernon,  my  dear  Lamballe, 
before  you  are  perfectly  recovered.  The  good 
Duke  de  Penthievre  would  be  sorry  and  dis- 
tressed, and  we  must  all  take  care  of  his  ad- 
vanced age  and  respect  his  virtues.  I  have  so 
often  told  you  to  take  heed  of  yourself,  that,  if 
you  love  me,  you  must  think  of  yourself;  we 
shall  require  all  of  our  strength  in  the  times  in 
which  we  live.  Oh !  do  not  return,  or  return 
as  late  as  possible.  Your  heart  would  be  too 
deeply  wounded ;  you  would  have  too  many 
tears  to  shed  over  my  misfortunes — you,  who 
loved  me  so  tenderly.  This  race  of  tigers  which 
infests  the  'kingdom  would  cruelly  enjoy  itself 
if  it  knew  all  the  sufferings  we  undergo.  Adieu , 
my  dear  Lamballe;  I  am  always  thinking  of 
you,  and  you  know  I  never  change;" 

The  princess,  notwithstanding  this  advice 
hastened  to  join  her  friend  and  to  share  her  fate 
She  stood  by  the  side  of  the  queen  during  the 
sleeplessness  of  the  night  preceding  the  20th 
•f  June,  and  clung  to  her  during  all  those  long 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  265 

The  prlneeM  •eparated  from  the  queen.          She  ti  throw*  Into  prlH» 

and  terrific  hours  in  which  the  mob  filled  her 
apartment  with  language  of  obscenity,  menace, 
and  rage.  She  accompanied  the  royal  family 
to  the  Assembly,  shared  with  them  the  cheer- 
less night  in  the  old  monastery  of  the  Feuillants, 
and  followed  them  to  the  gloomy  prison  of  the 
Temple.  The  stern  decree  of  the  Assembly,  de- 
priving the  royal  family  of  the  presence  of  any 
of  their  friends,  excluded  the  princess  from  the 
prison.  She  still,  however,  lived  but  to  weep 
over  the  sorrows  of  those  whom  she  so  tenderly 
loved. 

She  was  soon  arrested  as  a  Loyalist,  and  plung- 
ed, like  the  vilest  criminal,  into  the  prison  of 
La  Force.  For  the  crime  of  loving  the  king 
and  queen  she  was  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  Revolutionary  tribunal.  The  officers  found 
her  lying  upon  her  pallet  in  the  prison,  surround- 
ed by  other  wretched  victims  of  lawless  violence, 
scarcely  able  to  raise  her  head  from  her  pillow. 
She  entreated  them  to  leave  her  to  die  where 
•he  was.  One  of  the  officers  leaned  over  her 
bed,  and  whispered  to  her  that  they  were  her 
friends,  and  that  her  life  depended  upon  her  en- 
tire compliance  with  their  directions.  She  im- 
mediately arose  and  accompanied  the  guard 
down  the  prison  stairs  to  the  door,  There  two 


266  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

Trial  of  the  princes*.  She  refuse*  to  f  w««v 

brutal-looking  wretches,  covered  with  blood, 
stood  waiting  to  receive  her.  As  they  grasped 
her  arms,  she  faulted.  It  was  long  befoie  she 
recovered.  As  soon  as  she  revived  she  was  led 
before  the  judges.  "  Swear,"  said  one  of  them, 
"  that  you  love  liberty  and  equality ;  and  swear 
that  you  hate  all  kings  and  queens."  "I  am 
willing  to  swear  the  first,"  she  replied,  "but  as 
to  hatred  of  kings  and  queens,  I  can  not  swear 
it,  for  it  is  not  in  my  heart."  Another  judge, 
moved  with  pity  by  her  youth  and  innocence, 
bent  over  her  and  whispered,  "  Swear  any  thing, 
or  you  are  lost."  She  still  remained  silent. 
"  Well,"  said  one,  "  you  may  go,  but  when  you 
get  into  the  street,  shout  Vive  la  nation  /"  The 
court-yard  was  filled  with  assassins,  who  cut 
down,  with  pikes  and  bludgeons,  the  condemn- 
ed as  they  were  led  out  from  the  court,  and 
the  mutilated  and  gory  bodies  of  the  slain  were 
strewn  over  the  pavement.  Two  soldiers  took 
her  by  the  arm  to  lead  her  out.  As  she  passed 
from  the  door,  the  dreadful  sight  froze  her  heart 
with  terror,  and  she  exclaimed,  forgetful  of  the 
peril,  "  O  God !  how  horrible !"  One  of  the 
soldiers,  by  a  friendly  impulse,  immediately  cov- 
ered her  mouth  with  his  hand,  that  her  excla- 
mations might  not  be  heard.  She  was  led  into 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  26? 

A«MMiB*tiaB  *J  the  prtaceM.  Brutality  of  toe  tnofe. 


the  street,  filled  with  assassins  thirsting  for  the 
blood  of  the  Royalists,  and  had  advanced  but  a 
few  steps,  when  a  journeyman  barber,  stagger, 
ing  with  intoxication  and  infuriated  with  car- 
nage, endeavored,  in  a  kind  of  brutal  jesting,  to 
strike  her  cap  from  her  head  with  his  long  pike. 
The  blow  fell  upon  her  forehead,  cutting  a  deep 
gash,  and  the  blood  gushed  out  over  her  face 
The  assassins  around,  deeming  this  the  signa» 
for  their  onset,  fell  upon  her.  A  blow  from  a 
bludgeon  laid  her  dead  upon  the  pavement. 
One,  seizing  her  by  the  hair,  with  a  saber  out 
off  her  head.  Others  tore  her  garments  from 
her  graceful  limbs,  and,  cutting  her  body  into 
fragments,  paraded  the  mutilated  remains  upon 
their  pikes  through  the  streets.  The  dissever- 
ed head  they  ^re  into  an  ale  house,  and  drank 
and  danced  aiound  the  ghastly  trophy  in  horrid 
carousal.  The  rioting  multitude  then,  in  the 
phrensy  of  intoxication,  swarmed  through  the 
streets  to  the  Temple,  to  torture  the  king  and 
qneen  with  the  dreadful  spectacle.  The  king, 
hearing  the  shoutings  and  tumultuous  laugh- 
ter of  the  mob,  went  to  the  window,  and  rec- 
ognized, in  the  gory  head  thrust  up  to  him 
upon  the  point  of  a  pike,  the  features  of  his 
much-loved  friend.  He  immediately  led  the 


268  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1792 

Dreadful  apprehension*.  Increased  •erertti** 

queen  to  another  part  of  the  room,  that  she 
might  be  shielded  from  the  dreadful  spectacle. 

Such  were  the  flashes  ol  terror  which  were 
fver  gleaming  through  the  bars  of  their  win- 
dows. The  horrors  of  each  passing  moment 
were  magnified  by  the  apprehension  of  still 
more  dreadful  evils  to  come.  There  was,  how 
ever,  one  consolation  yet  left  them.  They  were 
permitted  to  cling  together.  Looked  in  each 
other's  arms,  they  could  bow  hi  prayer,  and  by 
sympathy  and  love  sustain  their  fainting  hearts. 
It  was  soon,  however,  thought  that  these  in- 
dulgences  were  too  great  for  dethroned  royalty 
to  enjoy.  But  a  few  days  of,  their  captivity  had 
passed  away,  when,  at  midnight,  they  were 
aroused  by  an  unusual  uproar,  and  a  band  of 
brutal  soldiers  came  clattering  into  their  room 
with  lanterns,  and,  in  the  most  harsh  and  in- 
sulting manner,  commanded  the  immediate  ex- 
pulsion of  all  the  servants  and  attendants  of 
the  royal  family.  Expostulation  and  entreaty 
were  alike  unavailing.  The  captives  were 
stripped  of  all  their  friends,  and  passed  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  hi  sleeplessness  and  hi  de- 
spair. With  the  light  of  the  morning  they  en- 
deavored to  nerve  themselves  to  bear  with  pa- 
tience this  new  trial.  The  king  performed  th« 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT.  269 

Fhe  queen  groeily  insulted.  The  king  separated  from  his  family 

part  of  a  nurse  in  aiding  to  wash  and  dress  the 
children.  For  the  health  of  the  children,  they 
front  into  the  court-yard  of  the  prison  before 
linner  for  exercise  and  the  fresh  air.  A  sol- 
iier,  stationed  there  to  guard  them,  came  up 
deliberately  to  the  queen,  and  amused  his  com- 
panions by  puffing  tobacco  smoke  from  his  pipe 
into  her  face.  The  parents  read  upon  the  walls 
the  names  of  their  children,  described  as  "  whelps 
who  ought  to  be  strangled." 

Six  weeks  of  this  almost  unendurable  agony 
passed  away,  when,  one  night,  as  the  unhappy 
captives  were  clustered  together,  finding  in  their 
mutual  and  increasing  affection  a  solace  for  all 
their  woes,  six  municipal  officers  entered  the 
tower,  and  read  a  decree  ordering  the  entire 
separation  of  the  king  from  the  rest  of  his  fam- 
ily. No  language  can  express  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  sufferers  in  view  of  this  cruel  meas- 
ure. Without  mercy,  the  officers  immediately 
executed  the  barbarous  command,  by  tearing 
the  king  from  the  embraces  of  his  agonized  wife 
and  his  grief-distracted  children.  The  king 
overwhelmed  with  anguish  in  view  of  the  suffer- 
ings which  his  wife  and  children  must  endure, 
most  earnestly  implored  them  not  to  separata 
him  from  hi§  family.  They  were  inflexibly 


870  MARIA  ANTOINETTE          [1792 

Wretched  «Ute  of  the  king.  The  queen' «  mgulsh  at  the  npantlor 

and,  hardly  allowing  the  royal  family  one  mo- 
ment for  their  parting  adieus,  hurried  the  king 
away.  It  was  the  dark  hour  of  a  gloomy  night 
The  few  rays  of  light  from  the  lanterns  guided 
them  through  narrow  passages,  and  over  piles 
of  rubbish  to  a  distant  angle  of  the  huge  and 
dilapidated  fortress,  where  they  thrust  the  king 
into  an  unfurnished  cell,  and,  looking  the  door 
upon  him,  they  left  him  with  one  tallow  candle 
to  make  visible  the  gloom  and  the  solitude. 
There  was,  in  one  corner,  a  miserable  pallet, 
and  heaps  of  moldering  bricks  and  mortar  were 
scattered  over  the  damp  floor.  The  king  threw 
himself,  in  utter  despair,  upon  this  wretched  bed, 
and  counted,  till  the  morning  dawned,  the  steps 
of  the  sentinel  pacing  to  and  fro  before  his  door 
At  length  a  small  piece  of  bread  and  a  bottle  of 
water  were  brought  him  for  his  breakfast. 

The  anguish  of  the  queen  in  the  endurance 
of  this  most  cruel  separation  was  apparently  as 
deep  as  human  nature  could  experience.  Her 
woe  amounted  to  delirium.  Pale  and  haggard, 
«he  walked  to  and  fro,  beseeching  her  jailers 
that  they  would  restore  to  her  and  to  her  chil« 
dren  the  husband  and  the  father.  Her  pathetic 
entreaties  touched  even  th^ir  hearts  of  stone 
**  I  do  believe,"  said  one  of  them,  "  that  thes« 


1792.]  IMPRISONMENT. 

The  king  MM  hii  family  ooeuttMuDy.  Condition  of  the  captive* 

infernal  women  will  make  even  rne  weep." 
After  some  time,  they  consented  that  the  king 
should  occasionally  be  permitted  to  partake  hit 
meals  with  his  family,  a  guard  being  always 
present  to  hear  what  they  should  say.  Imme- 
diately after  the  meal,  he  was  to  be  taken  baok 
to  his  solitary  imprisonment. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  royal  family 
during  a  period  of  about  four  months,  varied  by 
the  capricious  mercy  or  cruelty  of  the  different 
persons  who  were  placed  as  guards  over  them 
Their  clothes  became  soiled,  threadbare,  and 
tattered  ;  and  they  were  deprived  of  all  means 
of  repairing  their  garments,  lest  they  should 
convert  needles  and  scissors  into  instruments 
of  suicide.  The  king  was  not  allowed  the  use 
of  a  razor  to  remove  his  beard ;  and  the  luxury 
of  a  barber  to  perform  that  essential  part  of  his 
toilet  was  an  expense  which  his  foes  could  not 
incur.  It  was  the  studied  endeavor  of  those 
who  now  rode  upon  the  crested  yet  perilous  bil- 
lows of  power,  to  degrade  royalty  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  debasement  and  contempt — that  the 
beheading  of  the  king  and  the  queen  might  be 
regarded  as  merely  the  execution  of  a  male  and 
a  female  felon  dragged  from  the  loathsome  don* 
geons  of  crime. 


272  MAAIA  ANTOINETTE  [1792 

Onrinou*  preparation*.         Tke  king  lummoned  before  the  OmretitioB 


CHAPTER  X. 
EXECUTION  OP  THE   KINO. 

ON  the  llth  of  December,  1792,  just  four 
months  after  the  royal  family  had  been 
consigned  to  the  Temple,  as  the  captives  were 
taking  their  breakfast,  a  great  noise  of  the  roll- 
ing of  drums,  the  neighing  of  horses,  and  the 
tramp  of  a  numerous  multitude  was  heard 
around  the  prison  walls ;  soon  some  one  entered, 
and  informed  the  king  that  these  were  the  prep- 
arations which  were  making  to  escort  him  to 
his  trial.  The  king  knew  perfectly  well  that 
this  was  the  step  which  preceded  his  execution, 
and,  as  he  thought  of  the  awful  situation  of  his 
family,  he  threw  himself  into  his  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  for  two  hours 
remained  in  that  attitude  immovable.  He  was 
roused  from  his  painful  revery  by  the  entrance 
af  the  officers  to  conduct  him  to  the  bar  of  hit 
judges,  from  whom  he  was  aware  he  could  ex- 
pect no  mercy.  "  I  follow  you,"  said  the  king, 
"  not  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the  Conven  • 
don,  but  because  my  enemies  are  the  more  pow- 
erful." He  put  on  his  brown  great-ooat  ami 


1792.J    EXECUTION  OF  THE   KINO.         273 

The  king  before  the  Convention.  Charge*  brought  against  him. 

hat,  and,  silently  descending  the  stairs  to  the 
door  of  the  tower,  entered  a  carriage  which  was 
there  awaiting  him.  As  he  had  long  been  de- 
prived of  his  razors,  his  chin  and  cheeks  were 
covered  with  masses  of  hair.  His  garments 
hung  loosely  aicund  his  emaciated  frame,  and 
all  dignity  of  aspect  was  lost  in  the  degraded 
condition  to  which  designing  cruelty  had  re- 
duced him.  The  captive  monarch  was  escorted 
through  the  streets  by  regiments  of  Cavalry,  in. 
fantry;  and  artillery,  every  man  furnished  with 
fifteen  rounds  of  ammunition  to  repel  any  at- 
tempts at  a  rescue.  A  countless  throng  of 
people  lined  the  streets  through  which  the  illus- 
trious prisoner  was  conveyed.  The  multitude 
gazed  upon  the  melancholy  procession  in  pro- 
found silence.  He  soon  stood  before  the  bar  of 
the  Convention.  "  Louis,"  said  the  president, 
"the  French  nation  accuses  you.  You  are 
»bout  to  hear  the  charges  which  are  to  be  pre- 
ferred. Louis,  be  seated."  The  king  listened 
with  perfect  tranquillity  and  self-pogsession  to 
a  long  catalogue  of  accusations,  in  which  hia 
efforts  to  sustain  the  falling  monarchy,  and  his 
exertions  to  protect  himself  and  family  from  in 
suits  and  death,  were  construed  into  crimes 
against  the  nation 
11—18 


274  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         \1792 

The  king  beg*  for  •  morse!  of  bread.  He  U  taken  back  to  prUoa 

The  examination  of  the  king  was  long,  mi« 
nute,  and  was  conducted  by  those  who  were  im- 
patient for  his  blood.  At  its  close,  the  king, 
perfectly  exhausted  by  mental  excitement  ano 
the  want  of  refreshment,  was  led  back  into 
the  waiting- roorr  of  the  Convention.  He  was 
scarcely  able  to  stand  for  faintness.  He  saw  a 
soldier  eating  a  piece  of  bread.  He  approached, 
and,  in  a  whisper,  begged  him  for  a  piece,  and 
ate  it.  Here  was  the  monarch  of  thirty  millions 
of  people,  in  the  heart  of  his  proud  capital,  and 
with  all  his  palaces  around  him,  actually  beg- 
ging bread  of  a  poor  soldier.  The  king  was 
again  placed  in  the  carriage,  and  conveyed  back 
to  his  prison  in  the  Temple.  As  the  cortege 
passed  slowly  by  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  the 
scene  of  all  his  former  grandeur  and  happiness, 
the  king  gazed  long  and  sadly  on  the  majestia 
pile,  so  lost  in  thought  that  he  heeded  not,  and 
apparently  heard  not  the  insulting  cries  which 
were  resounding  around  him.  As  the  king  en- 
tered the  Temple,  he  raised  his  eyes  most  wist- 
fully  to  the  queen's  apartment,  but  the  windows 
were  so  barred  that  no  glances  could  be  inter- 
changed.  The  king  was  conducted  to  his  apart- 
ment, and  was  informed  that  he  could  no  longei 
be  permitted  to  hold  any  communication  r 


1793.]    EXECUTION  OF  THE   KINO.        273 

Advance  of  the  allies.  Clamor  for  the  king's  life 

ever  with  the  other  members  of  his  family.  He 
contrived,  however,  by  means  of  a  tangle  of 
thread,  in  which  was  inclosed  a  piece  of  paper, 
perforated  by  a  needle,  to  get  a  note  to  the 
queen,  and  to  receive  a  few  words  in  return. 
He,  however,  felt  that  his  doom  was  sealed,  and 
began  from  that  hour  to  look  forward  to  his  im- 
mortality. He  made  his  will,  in  which  he  spoke 
in  most  affecting  terms  of  his  wife,  and  his  chil- 
dren, and  his  enemies,  commending  them  all  to 
the  protection  of  God. 

An  indescribable  gloom  now  reigned  through- 
out Paris.  The  allied  armies  on  the  frontiers 
were  gradually  advancing.  The  French  troops 
were  defeated.  It  was  feared  that  the  Royalists 
would  rise,  and  join  the  invaders,  and  rescue  the 
king.  Desperadoes  rioted  through  the  streets, 
clamoring  for  the  blood  of  their  monarch.  With 
knives  and  bludgeons  they  surrounded  the  Con- 
vention, threatening  the  lives  of  all  if  they  did 
not  consign  the  king  to  the  guillotine.  The  day 
for  the  final  decision  came— Shall  the  king  live 
or  die  ?  On  that  day  the  heart  of  the  metropo- 
lis throbbed  as  never  before.  It  was  the  20th  of 
January,  1793.  The  Convention  had  already 
been  in  uninterrupted  session  for  fifteen  hours 
The  clamor  of  the  tumultuous  and  threatening 


276  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1793 

The  king  condemned  to  death.  Emotion  of  Malesherbe* 

mob  gave  portentous  warning  of  the  doom  which 
awaited  the  members  of  the  Assembly  should 
they  dare  to  spare  the  life  of  the  king.  One 
by  one  the  deputies  mounted  the  tribune  as 
their  names  were  called  in  alphabetical  order, 
and  gave  their  vote.  For  some  time  death  and 
exile  seemed  equally  balanced.  The  results  of 
the  vote  were  read.  The  Convention  comprised 
seven  hundred  and  twenty-one  voters,  three 
hundred  and  thirty-four  of  whom  voted  for  exile, 
and  three  hundred  and  eighty-seven  for  death. 
Louis  sat  alone  in  his  prison,  calmly  await- 
ing the  decision.  He  laid  down  that  night 
knowing  that  his  doom  was  sealed,  and  yet  not 
knowing  what  that  doom  Was.  Malesherbes, 
the  venerable  friend  who  had  volunteered  for  his 
defense,  came  to  communicate  the  mournful 
tidings.  He  fell  at  the  king's  feet  so  overcome 
with  emotion  that  he  could  not  speak.  The 
king  understood  the  language  of  his  silence  and 
his  tears,  and  uttered  himself  the  sentence, 
"  Death."  But  a  few  moments  elapsed  before  the 
officers  of  the  Convention  came,  in  all  the  pomp 
and  parade  of  the  land,  to  communicate  to  the 
king  his  doom  to  the  guillotine  in  twenty-four 
hours.  With  perfect  calmness,  and  fixing  his 
sye  immovably  upon  his  Judges  he  heard  the 


1793.J     EXECUTION   OF   THE  KIMO.        277 

The  king's  demands.  The- Abb6  Edgvwortki 

reading  of  the  sentence.  The  reading  conclud- 
ed, the  king  presented  a  paper  to  the  deputies, 
which  he  first  read  to  them  in  the  clear  and 
commanding  tones  of  a  monarch  upon  his  throne, 
lemanding  a  respite  of  three  days,  hi  order  to 
prepare  to  appear  before  God;  also  permission 
to  see  his  family,  and  to  converse  with  a  priest 
The  Convention,  angry  at  these  requests,  in- 
formed the  king  that  he  might  see  any  priest 
he  pleased,  and  that  he  might  see  his  family, 
but  that  the  execution  must  take  place  hi  twen- 
ty-four hours  from  the  time  of  the  sentence. 
Darkness  had  again  fallen  upon  the  city,  when 
the  minister  of  religion,  M.  Edge  worth,  was  led 
through  the  gloomy  streets,  to  administer  the 
consolations  of  piety  to  the  condemned  monarch. 
As  he  entered  the  apartment  of  the  king,  he  fell 
at  his  feet  and  burst  into  tears.  Louis  for  a 
moment  wept,  when,  recovering  himself,  he  said, 
"  Pardon  me  this  momentary  weakness.  I 
have  so  long  lived  amcng  enemies,  that  habit 
has  rendered  me  insensible  to  hatred.  The  sight 
of  a  faithful  friend  restores  my  sensibility,  and 
moves  me  to  tears  in  spite  of  myself."  A  long 
conversation  ensued,  in  which  the  king  inquir- 
ed, with  the  greatest  interest,  respecting  tne 
ftrte  of  his  numerous  friends.  He  read  his  will 


278  MAR  A  AfToiNaxTE.         [1793, 

The  laU  interview.  AnguUh  of  the  roy«l  funfly 

with  the  utmost  deliberation,  his  voice  falter- 
ing only  when  he  alluded  to  his  wife,  children, 
and  sister.  At  seven  o'clock  he  was  to  have  his 
last  agonizing  interview  with  his  beloved  fami- 
ly, and  the  thought  of  this  agitated  him  far 
more  than  the  prospect  of  the  scaffold. 

The  hour  for  the  last  sad  meeting  arrived, 
The  king,  having  prepared  his  heart  by  prayer 
for  the  occasion,  descended  into  a  small  unfur- 
nished room,  where  he  was  to  meet  his  family 
The  door  opened.  The  queen,  leading  his  son, 
and  Madame  Elizabeth,  leading  his  daughter, 
with  trembling,  fainting  steps,  entered  the  room 
Not  a  word  was  uttered.  The  king  threw  him- 
self upon  a  bench,  drew  the  queen  to  his  right 
side,  his  sister  to  the  left,  and  their  arms  en- 
circled his  neck,  and  their  heads  hung  upon  his 
breast.  The  son  climbed  upon  his  father's 
knee,  clinging  with  his  arms  franticly  to  his  bo- 
som ;  and  the  daughter,  throwing  herself  at  his 
feet,  buried  her  head  in  his  lap,  her  beautiful  hair, 
in  disordered  ringlets,  falling  over  her  shoul- 
ders. A  long  half  hour  thus  passed,  in  which 
not  one  single  articulate  word  was  spoken,  but 
the  anguish  of  these  united  hearts  was  express- 
ed in  cries  and  lamentations  which  pierced 
through  the  stone  walls  of  their  prison,  and 


1793.J      EXECUTION    OF    THE     KlNO.  279 


Hie  lart  embr»c«. 


were  heard  by  passers  by  in  the  streets.  But 
human  nature  could  not  long  endure  this  intens- 
ity of  agony.  Total  exhaustion  ensued.  Their 
tears  dried  upon  their  cheeks  ;  embraces,  kisses, 
«vhispers  of  tenderness  and  love,  and  woe  ensued, 
which  lasted  for  two  hours. 

The  king  then  clasped  them  each  in  a  long 
embrace,  pressing  his  lips  to  their  cheeks,  and 
prepared  to  retire.  Clinging  to  each  other  in 
an  inseparable  group,  they  approached  the  stair- 
case which  the  king  was  to  ascend,  when  their 
piercing,  heart-rending  cries  were  renewed. 
The  king,  summoning  all  his  fortitude  to  his 
aid,  tore  himself  from  them,  and,  in  most  ten* 
der  accents,  cried  "Adieu!  adieu!"  hastily 
ascended  the  stairs  and  disappeared,  having  par- 
tially promised  that  he  would  see  them  again 
in  the  morning.  The  princess  royal  fell  faint- 
ing upon  the  floor,  and  was  borne  insensible  to 
her  room.  The  king,  reaching  his  apartment, 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  exclaimed, 
"  What  an  interview  I  have  had  !  Why  do  I 
love  so  fondly  ?  Alas  !  why  am  I  so  fondly 
loved  ?  But  we  have  now  done  with  time,  let 
us  occupy  ourselves  with  eternity." 

The  hour  of  midnight  had  now  arrived.  The 
king  tnrew  himself  upon  his  bed,  and  slept  a* 


280  MARIA  ANTOINETTE. 

The  king  receives  the  saeramont  Mementoes  to  his  family 

calmly,  as  peacefully,  as  though  he  had  never 
known  a  sorrow.  At  five  o'clock  he  was  awak« 
aned,  and  received  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  Then,  taking  a  small  parcel  from  his 
bosom,  and  removing  his  wedding  ring  from  his 
finger,  he  said  to  an  attendant,  "  After  my  death, 
I  wish  you  to  give  this  seal  to  my  son,  this  ring 
to  the  queen.  Say  to  the  queen,  my  dear  chil- 
dren, and  my  sister,  that  I  had  promised  to  see 
them  this  morning,  but  that  I  desired  to  spare 
them  the  agony  of  this  bitter  separation  twice 
over.  How  much  it  has  cost  me  to  part  with- 
out receiving  their  last  embraces !"  Here  his 
utterance  was  impeded  by  sobs.  He  then  call- 
ed for  some  scissors,  that  he  might  cut  off  locks 
of  hair  for  his  family.  As  he  soon  after  stood 
by  the  stove,  warming  himself,  he  exclaimed, 
(<  How  happy  am  I  that  I  maintained  my  Chris- 
tian faith  while  on  the  throne  !  What  would 
have  been  my  condition  now,  were  it  not  foi 
this  hope !"  Soon  faint  gleams  of  the  light  of 
day  began  to  penetrate  through  the  ircn  bars 
and  planks  which  guarded  his  windows.  It  was 
the  signal  for  the  beating  of  drums,  the  tramp 
of  armed  men,  the  rolling  of  heavy  carriages  of 
artillery,  and  the  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs.  As 
the  esoort  were  arriving  at  their  stations  in  the 


1793.]    EXECUTION  OF   THB  Kiwe.        281 

The  king  lummoned  to  execution.  Brutality  of  the  officer* 

court-yard  of  the  Temple,  a  great  noise  was 
heard  upon  the  stair-case.  "  They  have  come 
for  me,"  said  the  king ;  and,  rising  with  perfect 
calmness  and  without  a  tremor,  he  opened  the 
door.  It  was  a  false  summons.  Again  and 
again,  under  various  pretexts,  the  door  was 
opened,  until  nine  o'clock,  when  a  tumultuous 
noise  upon  the  stair-case  announced  the  ap- 
proach of  a  body  of  armed  men.  Twelve  mu- 
nicipal officers  and  twelve  soldiers  entered  the 
apartment.  The  soldiers  formed  in  two  lines 
The  king  with  a  serene  air,  placed  himself  be 
tween  the  double  lines,  and,  looking  to  one  of 
the  municipal  officers,  said,  presenting  to  him 
a  roll  of  paper,  which  was  his  last  will  and  test- 
ament, "  I  beg  of  you  to  transmit  this  paper  to 
the  queen."  The  municipal  brutally  replied; 
"  That  is  no  affair  of  mine.  I  am  here  to  con 
duct  you  to  the  scaffold."  "  True,"  the  king 
replied,  and  gave  the  paper  to  another,  who  re- 
ceived it.  The  king  then,  taking  his  hat  and 
declining  his  coat,  notwithstanding  the  severity 
of  the  cold,  said,  with  a  dignified  gesture  and 
a  tone  of  command,  "  Let  us  go."  The  king 
led  the  way,  followed  rather  than  conducted  by 
hi»  escort.  Descending  the  stairs,  he  met  the 
turnkey,  who  had  been  disrespectful  to  him  the 


282  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [179& 

Tba  brutal  Jailer.  The  king  conducted  to  execntkm 

night  before,  and  whom  the  king  had  reproach- 
ed for  his  insolence.  Louis  immediately  ap- 
proached the  unfeeling  jailor,  and  said  to  him, 
"Mathey,  I  was  somewhat  warm  with  you 
yesterday ;  forgive  me,  for  the  sake  of  this  hour." 
The  imbruted  monster  turned  upon  his  heel 
without  any  reply. 

As  he  crossed  the  court-yard  of  the  Temple, 
he  anxiously  gazed  upon  the  windows  of  the 
apartment  where  the  queen,  his  sister,  and 
his  children  were  imprisoned.  The  windows 
were  so  guarded  by  plank  shutters  that  no 
glances  from  the  loved  ones  within  could  meet 
his  eye.  As  the  heart  of  the  king  dwelt  upon 
the  scenes  of  anguish  which  he  knew  must 
be  passing  there,  it  seemed  for  a  moment  that 
,iis  fortitude  would  fail  him.  But,  with  a  vi 
olent  effort,  he  recovered  his  composure  and 
passed  on.  At  the  entrance  of  the  Temple  a 
carriage  awaited  the  king.  Two  soldiers  en- 
tered the  carriage,  and  took  seats  by  his  side 
The  king's  confessor  also  rode  in  the  carriage 
It  was  the  21st  of  January,  1793,  a  gloom) 
winter's  day.  Dark  clouds  lowered  in  the  sky. 
Fog  and  smoke  darkened  the  city.  The  atmos. 
phere  was  raw,  and  cold  in  the  extreme.  Na 
seemed .  in  harm  \tav  with  man's  deed  o/ 


1793 j     EXECUTION  OF  THE   KING. 

A  ud  proceMion.  Admirable  calmness  of  the  kinft 

cruelty  and  crime.  The  shops  were  all  closed, 
the  markets  were  empty.  No  citizens  were  al* 
lowed  to  cross  the  streets  on  the  line  of  march) 
or  even  to  show  themselves  at  the  windows. 
Sixty  drums  kept  up  a  deafening  clamor  as 
the  vast  procession  of  cavalry,  infantry,  and  ar- 
tillery marched  before,  behind,  and  on  each  side 
of  the  carriage.  Cannon,  loaded  with  grape- 
shot,  with  matches  lighted,  guarded  the  main 
street  on  the  line  of  march,  to  prevent  the  pos- 
sibility of  an  attempt  even  at  rescue.  The  noise 
of  the  drums,  the  clatter  of  the  iron  hoofs  of  the 
horses,  and  the  rumbling  of  the  heavy  pieces  of 
artillery  over  the  pavements  prevented  all  dis- 
course, and  the  king,  leaning  back  hi  his  car- 
riage, surrendered  himself  to  such  reflections  as» 
the  awful  hour  would  naturally  suggest.  The 
perfect  calmness  of  the  king  excited  the  admi- 
ration, of  those  who  were  near  his  person,  and  a 
few  hearts  in  the  multitude,  touched  with  pity, 
gave  utterance  to  the  cry  of  "  Pardon !  pardon!" 
Tn'3  sounds,  however,  died  away  in  the  throng, 
awakening  no  sympathetic  response.  As  the 
procession  moved  along,  no  sound  proceeded 
from  human  lips.  A  feeling  of  awe  appeared 
to  have  taken  possession  of  the  whole  city.  The 
wmtiment  of  loyalty  had,  for  so  many  centra- 


MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1793 

Attempt  to  rescue  the  king.  lu  Mini* 

ries,  pervaded  the  bosoms  of  the  French  people, 
that  they  could  not  conduct  their  monarch  t€ 
the  scaffold  without  the  deepest  emotions  of  awe. 
A  feeling  of  consternation  oppressed  every  leart 
in  view  of  the  deed  now  to  be  perpetrated.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  retract.  Perhaps  there  was 
not  an  individual  in  that  vast  throng  who  did 
not  shudder  in  view  of  the  crime  of  that  day 
At  one  spot  on  the  line  of  march,  seven  or  eight 
young  men,  in  the  spirit  of  desperate  heroism 
which  the  occasion  excited,  hoping  that  the  pity 
of  the  multitude  would  cause  them  to  rally  for 
their  aid,  broke  through  the  line,  sword  in  hand, 
and,  rushing  toward  the  ^carriage,  shouted, 
"Help  for  those  who  would  save  the  king." 
Three  thousand  young  men  had  enrolled  them- 
selves in  the  conspiracy  to  respond  to  this  call, 
But  the  preparations  to  resist  such  an  attempt 
were  too  formidable  to  allow  of  any  hopes  of 
success.  The  few  who  heroically  made  the 
•movement  were  instantly  cut  down.  At  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution,  one  hundred  thousand 
people  were  gathered  in  silence  around  the  scaf- 
fold. The  instrument  of  death,  with  its  blood- 
red  beams  and  posts,  stood  pror/iinent  above  the 
multitudinous  assemblage  i»  the  darrp,  murky 
air 


1793.]     EXECUTION  OF  THE   KING          28" 

DM  guillotine.  AModatton* 

The  guillotine  was  erected  in  the  center  of 
the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  directly  in  the  front 
of  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries.  This  celebrated 
instrument  of  death  was  invented  in  Italy  by 
i  physician  named  Guillotin,  and  from  him  re- 
ceived its  name.  A  heavy  ax,  raised  by  ma. 
shinery  between  two  upright  posts,  by  the  touch- 
ing of  a  spring  fell,  gliding  down  between  two 
grooves,  and  severed  the  head  from  the  body 
with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  The  palace  in 
which  Louis  had  passed  the  hours  of  his  infancy, 
and  his  childhood,  and  the  days  of  his  early 
grandeur ;  the  magnificent  gardens  of  the  pal- 
ace, where  he  had  so  often  been  greeted  with 
acclamations  ;  the  spacious  Elysian  Fields,  the 
pride  of  Paris,  were  all  spread  around,  as  if  in 
mockery  of  the  sacrifice  which  was  there  to  be 
offered.  This  whole  space  was  crowded  with  a 
countless  multitude,  clustered  upon  the  house 
tops,  darkening  the  windows,  swinging  upon  the 
trees,  to  witness  the  tragic  spectacle  of  the  be 
heading  of  their  king.  Arrangements  had  been 
xnade  to  have  the  places  immediately  around 
the  scaffold  filled  by  the  unrelenting  foes  of  the 
monarch,  that  no  emotions  of  pity  might  retard 
the  bloody  catastrophe.  As  the  carriage  ap- 
proached the  place  of  execution,  the  hum  of 


286  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.         [1793. 

The  king's  theughtfulnew.  He  undreMM  hlmseU 

the  mighty  multitude  was  hushed,  and  a  silence, 
as  of  death,  pervaded  the  immense  throng. 

At  last  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the 
scaffold.  The  king  raised  his  eyes,  and  said  to 
his  confessor,  in  a  low  but  calm  tone,  "  We  have 
arrived,  I  think."  By  a  silent  gesture  the  con- 
fessor assented.  The  king,  ever  more  mindful 
of  others  than  of  himself,  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  knee  of  the  confessor,  and  said  to  the  officers 
and  executioners  who  were  crowded  around  the 
coach,  "  Gentlemen,  I  recommend  to  your  pro- 
tection this  gentleman.  See  that  he  be  not  in- 
sulted after  my  death.  I  charge  you  to  watch 
over  him."  As  no  one  made  any  reply,  the  king 
repeated  the  admonition  in  tones  still  more 
earnest.  "  Yes  !  yes  !"  interrupted  one,  jeer- 
ingly,  "make  your  mind  easy  about  that;  we 
will  take  care  of  him.  Let  us  alone  for  that." 
Three  of  the  executioners  then  approached  the 
king  to  undress  him.  He  waved  them  fmp 
him  with  an  authoritative  gesture,  and  himself 
took  off  his  coat,  his  cravat,  and  turned  down 
his  shirt  collar.  The  executioners  then  came 
vrith  cords  to  bind  him  to  a  plank.  "  What  do 
you  intend  to  do?"  he  exclaimed,  indignantly. 
"  We  intend  to  bind  you,"  they  replied,  as  they 
•wized  his  hands.  To  be  bound  was  an  unex 


1793.]    EXECUTION  OF  THE   Kixt».         2*7 

The  king  ascends  the  scaffold.  HI*  ipeech. 

pected  indignity,  at  which  the  blood  of  the  mon- 
arch recoiled.  "No!  no!"  he  exclaimed,  "I 
will  never  submit  to  that.  Do  your  business, 
but  you  shall  not  bind  me."  The  king  resisted 
The  executioners  called  for  help.  A  scene  of 
violence  was  about  to  ensue.  The  king  turned 
his  eve  to  his  confessor,  as  if  for  counsel.  "  Sire," 
said  the  Abbe  Edge  worth,  "  submit  unresist- 
ingly to  this  fresh  outrage,  as  the  last  resem- 
blance  to  the  Savior  who  is  about  to  recom 
pense  your  sufferings."  Louis  raised  his  eye* 
to  heaven,  and  said,  "  Assuredly  there  needed 
nothing  less  than  the  example  of  the  Savior 
to  induce  me  to  submit  to  such  an  indignity." 
He  then  reached  his  hands  out  to  the  execution- 
era,  and  said,  "  Do  as  you  will ;  I  will  drink  th« 
cup  to  the  dregs."  Leaning  upon  the  arm  of 
his  friend,  he  ascended  the  steep  and  slippery 
steps  of  the  guillotine ;  then,  walking  across 
the  platform  firmly,  he  looked  for  a  moment  in- 
tently  upon  the  sharp  blade  of  the  ax,  and  turn- 
ing suddenly  to  the  populace,  exclaimed,  in  a 
voice  clear  and  distinct,  which  penetrated  to  the 
remotest  extremities  of  the  square,  "  People,  I 
die  innocent  of  all  the  crimes  laid  to  my  charge. 
I  pardon  the  authors  of  my  death,  and  pray  God 
that  the  blood  you  are  about  to  shed  may  never 


288  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1793. 

The  last  act  In  the  tragedy.  Burial  of  the  king1*  body 

fall  again  upon  France.  And  you,  nnhappj 
people—"  Here  the  drums  were  ordered  to  beat, 
and  the  deafening  clamor  drowned  his  words. 
The  king  turned  slowly  to  the  guillotine  and 
surrendered  himself  to  the  executioners.  He 
was  bound  to  the  plank.  "  The  plank  sunk. 
The  blade  glided.  The  head  fell." 

One  of  the  executioners  seized  the  severed 
head  of  the  monarch  by  the  hair,  and,  raising 
the  bloody  trophy  of  their  triumph,  showed  it  to 
the  shuddering  throng,  while  the  blood  dripped 
from  it  on  the  scaffold.  A  few  desperadoes 
dipped  their  sabers  and  the  points  of  their  pikes 
in  the  blood,  and,  waving  them  in  the  air, 
shouted  "  Vive  la  Republique !"  The  multi- 
tude, however,  responded  not  to  the  cry.  Ex 
plosions  of  artillery  announced  to  the  distant 
parts  of  the  city  that  the  sacrifice  was  consum- 
mated. The  remains  of  the  monarch  were  con- 
veyed on  a  covered  cart  to  the  cemetery  of  tb« 
Madeleine,  and  lime  was  thrown  into  the  grave> 
that  the  body  might  be  speedily  and  entirely 
consumed. 

Over  the  grave  where  he  was  buried  Napo- 
leon subsequently  began  the  splendid  Temple 
of  Glory,  in  commemoration  of  the  monarch 
*nd  other  victims  who  fell  in  the  Revolution. 


1793.]     EXECUTION  OF  THE  KINO.         28ft 

The  blood-red  obelisk.  Character  of  I, out* 

The  completion  of  the  edifice  was  frustrated  by 
the  fall  of  Napoleon.  The  Bourbons,  however, 
on  their  restoration  to  the  throne,  finished  the 
building,  and  it  is  now  called  the  Church  of  the 
Madeleine,  and  it  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  structures  of  Paris.  The  spot  on 
which  the  monarch  fell  is  now  marked  by  a 
colossal  obelisk  of  blood-red  granite,  wh.'oh  the 
French  government,  in  1833,  transported  from 
Thebes,  in  Upper  Egypt.  Louis  was  unques- 
tionably one  of  the  most  conscientious  and  up- 
right sovereigns  who  ever  sat  upon  a  throne. 
He  loved  his  people,  and  earnestly  desired  to  da 
every  thing  in  his  power  to  promote  their  wel- 
fare. And  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  he 
was  guided  through  life,  and  sustained  through 
the  awful  trial  of  his  death,  by  the  principle 
of  sincere  piety.  The  tidings  of  his  execution 
sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through  Europe,  and  fast- 
ened such  a  stigma  upon  Republicanism  as  to 
pave  the  way  for  the  re-erection  of  the  throne 
11—19 


290  MAR;A  ANTOINETTE.         [179i> 

SHffertngg  of  the  queen.  Announcement  of  her  husband' i  de«»U 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TRIAL    AND   EXECUTION  OF  MARIA  AN 
TOINETTE. 


the  king  was  suffering  upon  the 
guillotine,  the  queen,  with  Madame  Eliz- 
abeth and  the  children,  remained  in  their  pris- 
on, in  the  endurance  of  anguish  as  severe  as 
«ould  be  laid  upon  human  hearts.  The  queen 
was  plunged  into  a  continued  succession  of 
swoons,  and  when  she  heard  the  booming  of  the 
artillery,  which  announced  that  the  fatal  ax 
had  fallen  and  that  her  husband  was  headless, 
her  companions  feared  that  her  life  was  also,  at 
the  same  moment,  to  be  extinguished.  Soon 
the  rumbling  of  wheels,  the  rolling  of  heavy 
pieces  of  cannon,  and  the  shouts  of  the  multi- 
tude penetrating  through  the  bars  of  her  cell, 
proclaimed  the  return  of  the  procession  from 
the  scene  of  death.  The  queen  was  extremely 
anxious  to  be  informed  of  all  the  details  of  the 
last  moments  of  the  king,  but  her  foes  refused 
her  even  this  donsoktion. 

Days  and  nights  now  lingered  slowly  along. 


1793.]  EXECUTION  OF  THE  QUEEN.      291 

Cruel  decree.  M  aria's  dafecM  at  her  boy. 

while  the  captives  were  perishing  in  monoto- 
nous misery.  The  severity  of  their  imprison- 
ment was  continually  increased  by  new  depri- 
vations. No  communications  from  the  world 
without  were  permitted  to  reach  their  ears. 
Shutters  were  so  arranged  that  even  the  sky 
was  scarcely  visible,  and  no  employment  what- 
ever was  allowed  them  to  beguile  their  hours  of 
woe.  About  four  months  after  the  death  of  the 
king,  a  loud  noise  was  heard  one  night  at  the 
door  of  their  chamber,  and  a  band  of  armed  men 
came  tumultuously  in,  and  read  to  the  queen  an 
order  that  her  little  son  should  be  entirely  sep- 
arated from  her,  and  imprisoned  by  himself. 
The  poor  child,  as  he  heard  this  cruel  decree, 
was  frantic  with  terror,  and,  throwing  himself 
into  his  mother's  arms,  shrieked  out,  "O  moth- 
er !  mother !  mother !  do  not  abandon  me  to 
those  men.  They  will  kill  me  as  they  did  papa  " 
The  queen  was  thrown  into  a  perfect  deliriura 
of  mental  agony.  She  placed  .her  child  upon 
the  bed,  and,  stationing  herself  before  him,  with 
eyes  glaring  like  a  tigress,  and  with  almost  su- 
perhuman energy,  declared  that  they  should  tear 
her  in  pieces  before  they  should  touch  her  poor 
boy.  The  officers  were  subdued  by  this  affect- 
ing exhibition  of  maternal  love,  and  forbore  vi- 


292  MARIA  ANTOINETTB 

The  dauphfn'i  cell.  The  queen  (ummoned  to  the  Conciergeri* 

olence.  For  two  hours  she  thus  contended 
against  all  their  solicitations,  until,  entirety 
overcome  by  exhaustion,  she  fell  in  a  swoon 
upon  the  floor.  The  child  was  then  hurried 
from  the  apartment,  and  placed  under  the  care 
of  a  brutal  wretch,  whose  name,  Simon,  inhu- 
manity has  immortalized.  The  unhappy  child 
threw  himself  upon  the  floor  of  his  cell,  and  for 
two  days  remained  without  any  nourishment 
The  queen  abandoned  herself  to  utter  despair. 
Madame  Elizabeth  and  Maria  Theresa  perform- 
ed all  the  service  of  the  chamber,  making  the 
beds,  sweeping  the  room,  and  attending  upon 
the  queen.  No  importunities  on  the  part  of 
Maria  Antoinette  could  obtain  for  her  the  fa- 
vor of  a  single  interview  with  her  child. 

Three  more  months  passed  slowly  away, 
when,  early  in  August,  the  queen  was  aroused 
from  her  sleep  at  midnight  by  armed  men,  with 
lanterns,  bursting  into  her  room.  With  unfeel- 
ing barbarity,  they  ordered  her  to  accompany 
them  to  the  prison  of  the  Conciergerie,  the  most 
dismal  prison  in  Paris,  where  those  doomed  tc 
die  awaited  their  execution.  The  queen  listen- 
ed, unmoved,  to  the  order,  for  her  heart  had  now 
become  callous  even  to  woe.  Her  daugttei 
and  Madame  Elizabeth  threw  themselves  at  Che 


1793.]  EXECUTION    >F  THE 


Painful  parting*.  The  Cooclergert* 

feet  of  the  officers,  and  most  pathetically,  but 
unavailingly,  implored  them  not  to  deprive  them 
of  their  only  remaining  solace.  The  queen  was 
compelled  to  rise  and  dress  in  the  presence  of 
the  wretches  who  exulted  over  her  abasement. 
She  clasped  her  daughter  for  one  frantic  moment 
convulsively  to  her  heart,  covered  her  with  em- 
braces  and  kisses,  spoke  a  few  words  of  impas- 
sioned tenderness  to  her  sister,  and  then,  as  if 
striving  by  violence  to  throw  herself  from  the 
room,  she  inadvertently  struck  her  forehead  a 
severe  blow  against  the  low  portal  of  the  door. 
"  Did  you  hurt  you?"  inquired  one  of  the  men. 
"  Oh  no  !"  was  the  despairing  reply,  "  nothing 
now  can  further  harm  me." 

A  few  lights  glimmered  dimly  from  the  street 
lamps  as  the  queen  entered  the  carriage,  guard- 
ed by  soldiers,  and  was  conveyed  through  the 
somber  streets  to  her  last  earthly  abode.  The 
prison  of  the  Conciergerie  consists  of  a  series  of 
subterranean  dungeons  beneath  the  floor  of  the 
Palais  de  Justice.  More  damp,  dark,  gloomy 
dens  of  stone  and  iron  the  imagination  can  not 
conceive.  Down  the  dripping  and  slippery 
steps  she  was  led,  groping  her  way  by  the  feeble 
light  of  a  tallow  candle,  until  she  approached, 
through  a  labyrinth  of  corridors,  an  iron  door.  It 


294  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1793 

Loathsome  apartments  of  the  queen.  The  jailor's  wife 

grated  upon  its  hinges,  and  she  was  thrust  in, 
two  soldiers  accompanying  her,  and  the  door  was 
closed.  It  was  midnight.  The  lantern  gave 
just  light  enough  to  show  her  the  horrors  of  her 
oelL  The  floor  was  covered  with  mud  and 
water,  while  little  streams  trickled  down  the 
stone  walls.  A  miserable  pallet  in  one  corner, 
an  old  pine  table  and  one  chair,  were  all  the 
comforts  the  kingdom  of  France  could  afford  its 
queen. 

The  heart  of  the  wife  of  the  jailer  was  touched 
with  compassion  in  view  of  this  unmitigated 
misery.  She  did  not  dare  to  speak  words  of 
kindness,  for  they  would  be  reported  by  the 
guard.  She,  however,  prepared  for  her  some 
food,  ventured  to  loan  her  some  needles,  and 
a  ball  of  worsted,  and  communicated  intelli- 
gence of  her  daughter  and  son.  The  Commit- 
tee of  Public  Safety  heard  of  these  acts  of  mer- 
cy, and  the  jailer  and  his  wife  were  immediately 
arrested,  and  plunged  into  those  dungeons  into 
which  they  would  have  allowed  the  spirit  of  hu- 
manity to  enter.  The  shoes  of  the  queen,  satu- 
rated with  water,  soon  fell  from  her  feet.  Hor 
stockings  and  her  dress,  from  the  humidity  of 
the  air,  were  in  tatters.  Two  soldiers,  with 
drawn  swords,  vtnre  stationed  by  her  side  night 


1793.)  EXECUTION  or  THE  QUEEN.      299 

The  jailer*!  daughter.  T1»  gartoK 

and  day,  with  the  command,  never,  even  for  on« 
moment,  to  turn  their  eyes  from  her.  The 
daughter  of  the  new  jailer,  touched  with  com- 
passion, and  regardless  of  the  fate  of  the  prede- 
cessors of  her  parents,  entered  her  cell  every 
morning  to  dress  her  whitened  locks,  which  sor- 
row had  bleached.  The  queen  ventured  one 
day  to  solicit  an  additional  counterpane  for  her 
bed.  "  How  dare  you  make  such  a  request  ?" 
replied  the  solicitor  general  of  the  commune ; 
"  you  deserve  to  be  sent  to  the  guillotine !"  The 
queen  succeeded  secretly,  by  means  of  a  tooth- 
pick, which  she  converted  into  a  tapestry  needle, 
in  plaiting  a  garter  from  thread  which  she 
plucked  from  an  old  woollen  coverlet.  This 
memorial  of  a  mother's  love  she  contrived,  by 
stratagem,  to  transmit  to  her  daughter.  This 
was  the  richest  legacy  the  daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa  and  the  Queen  of  France  could  be- 
queath to  her  child.  That  garter  is  still  pre- 
served as  a  sacred  relic  by  those  who  revere  the 
memory  and  commiserate  the  misfortunes  of 
Maria  Antoinette. 

Two  months  of  this  all  but  insupportable  im- 
prisonment passed  away,  when,  early  in  October, 
«he  was  brought  from  her  dungeon  below  to  th« 
court-room  above  for  her  trial.  Her 


298  MARIA   ANTOIMETTB.         [1793 

Dignity  of  the  queen  during  her  trial.  She  Is  condemned  to  death 

was  that  she  abhorred  the  revolution  which  had 
beheaded  her  husband,  and  plunged  her  and  her 
whole  family  into  woes,  the  remembrance  of 
which  it  would  seem  that  even  eternity  could 
hardly  efface.  The  queen  condescended  to  no 
defense.  She  appeared  before  her  accusers  in 
the  calm  dignity  of  despair,  and  yet  with  a  spirit 
as  unbroken  and  queenly  as  when  she  moved  in 
the  gilded  saloons  of  Versailles.  The  queen 
was  called  to  hear  her  sentence.  It  was  death 
within  twenty-four  hours.  Not  the  tremor  of 
a  muscle  showed  the  slightest  agitation  as  the 
mob,  with  clappings  and  shoutings,  manifested 
their  hatred  for  their  victim  f  and  their  exulta- 
tion at  her  doom.  Insults  and  execrations  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  stair-case  as  she  descended 
again  to  her  dungeon.  It  was  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  A  few  rays  of  the  dawning  day 
struggled  through  the  bars  of  her  prison  win- 
dow, and  she  seemed  to  smile  with  a  faint  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  at  the  thought  that  her  last 
day  of  earthly  woe  had  dawned.  She  called 
for  pen  and  ink,  and  wrote  a  very  affecting  let- 
ter to  her  sister  and  children.  Having  finished 
the  letter,  she  repeatedly  and  passionately  kiss- 
ed it,  as  if  it  were  the  last  link  which  bound 
her  to  the  loved  ones  from  whom  she  was  so 


1793.)  EXECUTION  OF  THE   Q,UEEM.      298 

The  queen  dressed  for  the  guillotine.  Her  hands  bound. 

soon  to  be  separated  by  death.  She  then,  as  if 
done  with  earth,  kneeled  down  and  prayed,  and 
with  a  tranquillized  spirit,  threw  herself  upo* 
her  bed,  and  fell  into  a  profound  slumber. 

An  hour  or  two  passed  away,  when  the  kind 
daughter  of  the  jailer  came,  with  weeping  eyea 
and  a  throbbing  heart,  into  the  cell  to  dress  the 
queen  for  the  guillotine.  It  was  the  14th  of 
October,  1793.  Maria  Antoinette  arose  with 
alacrity,  and,  laying  aside  her  prison-worn  gar- 
ments of  mourning,  put  on  her  only  remaining 
dress,  a  white  robe,  emblematic  of  the  joy  with 
which  she  bade  adieu  to  earth.  A  white  hand- 
kerchief was  spread  over  her  shoulders,  and  a 
white  cap,  bound  to  her  head  by  a  black  ribbon, 
covered  her  hair.  It  was  a  cold  and  foggy  morn- 
ing, and  the  moaning  wind  drove  clouds  of  mist 
through  the  streets.  But  the  day  had  hardly 
dawned  before  crowds  of  people  thronged  the 
prison,  and  all  Paris  seemed  in  motion  to  en- 
joy the  spectacle  of  the  sufferings  of  their  queen 
At  eleven  o'clock  the  executioners  entered  her 
tell,  bound  her  hands  behind  her,  and  led  her 
out  from  the  prison.  The  queen  had  nerved  her 
heart  to  die  in  the  spirit  of  defiance  to  her  foes. 
She  thought,  perhaps,  too  much  of  man,  too  lit- 
tle of  God.  Queenly  pride  rather  than  Chrw- 


300  MARIA   ANTOINUTTK.          [1793 

Car  of  the  condemned.  Indignities  heaped  upon  the  queen 

tian  resignation  inspired  her  soul.  Expecting 
to  be  conducted  to  the  scaffold,  as  the  king  had 
been,  in  a  close  carriage,  she,  for  a  moment* 
recoiled  with  horror  when  she  was  led  to  the 
ignominious  car  of  the  condemned,  and  was 
commanded  to  enter  it.  This  car  was  much 
like  a  common  hay  cart,  entirely  open,  and 
guarded  by  a  rude  but  strong  railing.  The  fe- 
male furies  who  surrounded  her  shouted  with 
laughter,  and  cried  out  incessantly,  "  Down 
with  the  Austrian !"  "  Down  with  the  Austri- 
an!" The  queen  was  alone  in  the  cart.  Her 
hands  were  tied  behind  her.  She  could  not  sit 
down.  She  could  not  support  herself  against 
the  jolting  of  the  cart  upon  the  rough  pavement. 
The  car  started.  The  queen  was  thrown  from 
her  equilibrium.  She  fell  this  way  and  that 
way.  Her  bonnet  was  crowded  over  her  eyes. 
Her  gray  locks  floated  in  the  damp  morning  air 
Her  coarse  dress,  disarranged,  excited  derision. 
As  she  was  violently  pitched  to  and  fro,  not- 
withstanding her  desperate  endeavors  to  retain 
the  dignity  of  her  appearance,  the  wretches 
shouted,  "  These  are  not  your  cushions  of  Tri- 
anon." It  was  a  long  ride,  through  the  infuri- 
ated mob,  to  tfie  scaffold,  which  was  reared  di- 
rectly in  front  of  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries 


1793.]  EXECUTION  OP  THE   QLEEN. 


301 


4rriT«l  at  the  guillotine.  The  queen'«  compo«ui» 

As  the  oar  arrived  at  the  entrance  of  the  gar- 
dens of  the   palace  where  Maria  had  passed 
through  so  many  vicissitudes  of  joy  and  woe,  it 
stopped  for  a  moment,  apparently  that  the  queen 
might  experience  a  few  more  emotions  of  tor- 
ture as  she  contemplated  the  abode  of  her  past 
grandeur.     Maria  leaned  back  upon  the  rail- 
ing, utterly  regardless  of  the  clamor  around  her, 
and  fixed  her  eyes  long  and  steadfastly  upon 
the  theater  of  all  her  former  happiness.     The 
thought  of  her  husband,  her  children,  her  home, 
for  a  moment  overcame  her,  and  a  few  teara 
trickled  down  her  cheeks  and  fell  upon  the  flooi 
of  the  cart.     But,  instantly  regaining  her  com 
posure,  she  looked  around  again  upon  the  mul 
titude,  waving  like  an  ocean  over  the  whole  am 
phitheater,  with  an  air  of  majesty  expressive  oi 
her  superiority  over  all  earthly  ills.     A  few 
turns  more  of  the  wheels  brought  her  to  the 
foot  of  the  guillotine.     It  was  upon  the  same 
spot  where  her  husband  had  fallen.     She  calm- 
ly, firmly  looked  at  the  dreadful  instrument  of 
death,  scrutinizing  all  its  arrangements,  and 
contemplating,  almost  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, the  sharp  and  glittering  knife,  which  was 
so  soon  to  terminate  all  her  earthly  sufferings 
Two  of  the  executioners  assisted  her  by  the  el- 


302  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.         [1793 

The  queen'*  prayer.  Maternal  lore 

bows  as  she  endeavored  to  descend  from  the  cart. 
She  waited  for  no  directions,  but  with  a  firm 
and  yet  not  hurried  tread,  ascended  the  step? 
of  the  scaffold.  By  accident,  she  trod  upon  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  executioners.  "  Pardon  me !" 
she  exclaimed,  with  all  the  affability  and  grace 
with  which  she  would  have  apologized  to  a  cour- 
tier in  the  midst  of  the  social  festivities  of  the 
Little  Trianon.  She  kneeled  down,  raised  her 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  in  a  low  but  heart-rending 
prayer,  all  forgetful  of  herself,  implored  God  to 
protect  her  sister  and  her  helpless  children 
She  was  deaf  to  the  clamor  of  the  infuriate 
mob  around  her.  She  was  insensible  to  the  dis- 
honor of  her  own  appearance,  with  disheveled 
locks  blinding  her  eyes,  and  with  her  faded  gar- 
ments crumpled  and  disarranged  by  the  rough 
jostling  of  the  cart.  She  forgot  the  scaffold  on 
which  she  stood,  the  cords  which  bound  her 
hands,  the  blood-thirsty  executioners  by  her  side. 
the  fatal  knife  gleaming  above  her  head.  Her 
thoughts,  true  to  the  irrepressible  instincts  of 
maternal  love,  wandered  back  to  the  dungeons 
from  whence  she  had  emerged,  and  lingered 
with  anguish  around  the  pallets  where  her  or- 
phan, friendless,  persecuted  children  were  en- 
tombed. Her  last  prayer  was  the  prayer  of 
agonv.  She  rose  from  her  knees,  and,  turnina 


1793.]  EXECUTION  OF  THE  QUBBH.      303 

rfaelMtMUen. End  of  the  tragedy 

her  eyes  toward  the  tower  of  the  Temple,  and 
speaking  in  tones  which  would  have  pierced 
any  hearts  but  those  which  surrounded  her,  ex- 
claimed, "  Adieu !  adieu !  once  again,  my  deal 
children.  I  go  to  rejoin  your  father." 

She  was  bound  to  the  plank.  Slowly  it  de- 
gcended  till  the  neck  of  the  queen  was  brought 
under  the  groove  down  which  the  fatal  ax  was 
to  glide.  The  executioner,  hardened  by  deed* 
of  daily  butchery,  could  not  look  upon  this  spec- 
tacle of  the  misery  of  the  Queen  of  France  un- 
moved. His  hand  trembled  as  he  endeavored 
to  disengage  the  ax,  and  there  was  a  moment's 
delay.  The  ax  fell.  The  dissevered  head 
dropped  into  the  basket  placed  to  receive  it. 
The  executioner  seized  it  by  the  hair,  gushing 
with  blood,  raised  it  high  above  his  head,  and 
walked  around  the  elevated  platform  of  the  guil- 
lotine, exhibiting  the  bloody  trophy  to  the  as- 
sembled multitude.  One  long  shout  of  "  Vive 
la  Republique !"  rent  the  air,  and  the  long  and 
dreadful  tragedy  of  the  life  of  Maria  Antoinette 
was  closed. 

The  remains  of  the  queen  were  thrown  into 
a  pine  coffin  and  hurried  to  an  obscure  burial 
Upon  the  records  of  the  Church  of  La  Made- 
leine  we  now, read  the  charge,  "For  the  coffin 
of  the  Widow  Capet,  seven  francs  " 


304  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [1793 

The  daupkln  and  the  princess**.  Painful  uncertainty 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE   PRINCESS  ELIZABETH,  THE   DAO- 
PH1N,  AND  THE  PRINCESS  RoYAL. 

T"/1T7~HEN  Maria  Antoinette  was  taken  front 
'  *  the  Temple  and  consigned  to  the  dun- 
geons of  the  Conciergerie,  there  to  await  her 
trial  for  her  life,  the  dauphin  was  imprisoned 
by  himself,  though  but  a  child  seven  years  of 
age,  in  a  gloomy  cell,  where  he  was  entirely  ex- 
cluded from  any  communication  with  his  aunt 
and  sister.  The  two  latter  princesses  remained 
in  the  room  from  which  the  queen  had  been 
taken.  They  were,  however,  in  the  most  pain- 
ful uncertainty  respecting  her  fate.  Their  jail- 
ers were  commanded  to  give  them  no  informa- 
tion whatever  respecting  the  external  world 
Their  prison  was  a  living  tomb,  in  which  they 
were  allowed  to  breathe,  and  that  was  all.  Th« 
Princess  Elizabeth  had  surmised,  from  various 
little  incidents,  what  had  been  the  fate  of  the 
queen,  but  she  tried  to  cheer  the  young,  and  af- 
fectionate, and  still  beautiful  child  with  the 
hope  that  her  mother  yet  lived,  and  that  they 


1793.]     THE  ROYAL  PRINCESSES.         305 


Suffering*  of  the  princes**.  Their  dlnnal  oeU 

might  meet  again.  Eight  months  of  the  most 
dreary  captivity  rolled  slowly  away.  It  was 
winter,  and  yet  they  wem  allowed  no  fire  to 
dispel  the  gloom  and  the  chill  of  their  celL 
They  were  deprived  of  all  books.  They  were 
not  allowed  the  use  of  pens  or  paper.  The  long 
winter  nights  came.  In  their  cell  there  was 
but  a  few  hours  during  which  the  rays  of  the 
sun  struggled  faintly  through  the  barred  win- 
dows. Night,  long,  dismal,  impenetrable,  like 
that  of  Egypt,  enveloped  them  for  fifteen  hours. 
They  counted  the  strokes  of  the  clocks  in  the 
distant  churches.  They  listened  to  the  hum  of 
the  vast  and  mighty  metropolis,  like  the  roar  of 
the  surf  upon  the  shore.  Reflections  full  of 
horror  crowded  upon  them.  The  king  was  be- 
headed. The  queen  was,  they  knew  not  where, 
either  dead  or  in  the  endurance  of  the  most  fear- 
ful sufferings.  The  young  dauphin  was  impris- 
oned by  himself,  and  they  knew  only  that  the 
gentle,  affectionate,  idolized  child  was  exposed  to 
every  cruelty  which  barbarism  could  inflict  upon 
him.  What  was  to  be  their  own  fate  ?  Were 
they  to  linger  out  the  remnant  of  their  days  in 
this  wretched  captivity  ?  Would  their  inhuman 
jailers  envy  them  the  consolation  they  found  in 
each  other's  arms,  and  separate  them?  Were 
11—20 


306  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1799 

Painful  thoughts.  Unwelcome  visitor* 

they  also  to  perish  upon  the  guillotine,  where 
nearly  all  whom  they  had  loved  had  already  per 
ished  ?  Were  they  ever  to  be  released  ?  If  so 
what  joy  could  there  remain  on  earth  for  thorn 
after  theii  awful  sufferings  and  bereavements ' 
Woes,  such  as  they  had  endured,  were  too  deep 
ever  to  be  effaced  from  the  mind.  Nearly  eight 
months  thus  lingered  slowly  along,  in  which 
they  saw  only  brutal  and  insulting  jailers,  ate 
the  coarsest  food,  and  were  clothed  in  the  un- 
washed and  tattered  garb  of  the  prison.  Time 
seemed  to  have  stopped  its  flight,  and  to  have 
changed  into  a  weary,  woeful  eternity. 

On  the  9th  of  May,  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
and  her  niece,  who  had  received  the  name  of 
Maria  Theresa  in  memory  of  her  grandmother, 
were  retiring  to  bed.  They  were  enveloped  in 
midnight  darkness.  With  their  arms  around 
each  other's  necks,  they  were  kneeling  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  in  prayer.  Suddenly  a  great 
noise  was  heard  at  the  door,  accompanied  with 
repeated  and  violent  blows,  almost  heavy  enough 
to  shiver  the  door  from  its  hinges.  Madame 
Elizabeth  hastened  to  withdraw  a  bolt,  which 
constituted  an  inner  fastening,  when  some  sol- 
diers rushed  in  with  their  lanterns,  and  said  tc 
Madame  Elizabeth,  "You  must  immediately 


1793.]     THE   ROYAI.   PRINCESSES.         307 

The  prtncewes  separated.  Brutality  of  the  soldier* 

follow  us."  "  And  my  niece,"  replied  the  prin 
cess,  ever  forgetful  of  herself  in  her  thoughtful- 
ness  for  others,  "  can  she  go  too  ?"  "  We  want 
you  only  now !"  was  the  answer ;  "  we  will  take 
care  of  her  by-and-by."  The  aunt  foresaw  that 
the  hour  for  the  long-dreaded  separation  had 
come.  She  threw  her  arms  around  the  neck  of 
the  trembling  maiden,  and  wept  in  uncontrolla- 
ble grief.  The  brutal  soldiers,  unmoved  by 
these  tears,  loaded  them  both  with  reproaches 
and  insults,  as  belonging  to  the  detested  race  of 
kings,  and  imperiously  commanded  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  immediately  to  depart.  She  endeav- 
ored to  whisper  a  word  of  hope  into  the  ear  of 
aer  despairing  niece.  "  I  shall  probably  soon 
nturn  again,  my  dear  Maria."  "No,  cito- 
yenne,  you  won't,"  rudely  interrupted  one  of  the 
jailers ;  "  you  will  never  ascend  these  stairs 
again.  So  take  your  bonnet  and  come  down." 
Bathing  the  face  of  the  young  girl  with  her 
tears,  invoking  the  blessing  of  heaven  upon  her, 
turning  again  and  again  to  enfold  her  in  a  last 
embrace,  she  was  led  out  by  the  soldiers,  aiu? 
conducted  down  the  dark  and  damp  stairs  to 
the  gate.  Here  the  soldiers  rudely  searched 
her  person  anew,  and  then  thrust  her  irto  a 
carriage.  It  was  midnight  Tlia  carriage  was 


308  MARIA   ANTOINETTE.          [1793 

Elizabeth  taken  before  the  tribunal.  A  group  of  noble  captives 

driven  violently  through  the  deserted  streets  to 
the  Conciergerie.  The  Tribunal  was,  even  at 
that  hour,  in  session,  for  in  those  days  of  blood, 
when  the  slide  of  the  guillotine  had  no  repose 
from  morning  till  night,  the  day  did  not  contain 
hours  enough  for  the  work  of  condemnation. 
The  princess  was  conducted  immediately  into 
the  presence  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  A 
few  questions  were  asked  her,  and  then  she  was 
led  into  a  hall,  and  left  to  catch  such  repose  as 
she  could  upon  the  bench  where  Maria  An- 
toinette but  a  few  months  before  had  awaited 
her  condemnation. 

The  morning  had  hardly  dawned  when  she 
was  again  conducted  to  the  Tribunal,  in  com- 
pany with  twenty-four  others,  of  every  age  and 
of  both  sexes,  whose  crime  was  that  they  were 
nobles.  Ladies  were  there,  illustrious  in  virtue 
and  rank,  who  had  formerly  graced  the  brilliant 
assemblies  of  the  Tuileries  and  of  Versailles. 
Young  men,  whose  family  names  had  been 
renowned  for  ages,  stood  there  to  answer  fo? 
the  crime  of  possessing  a  distinguished  name, 
While  looking  upon  this  group  of  nobles,  gath- 
ered before  that  merciless  tribunal,  where  judg 
ment  was  almost  certain  condemnation,  the  pub 
tin  accuser,  with  cruel  irony,  remarked,  "  Of 


1793.]     THE   ROYAL   PRI^ESBBS.         309 

IVial  of  Mtdame  Elizabeth  Her  condemnation. 

what  can  Madame  Elizabeth  complain,  when 
ghe  sees  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine,  sur- 
rounded by  her  faithful  nobility  ?  She  can  now 
fancy  herself  back  again  in  the  gay  festivities 
of  Versailles." 

The  charges  against  Elizabeth  were,  that  she 
was  the  sister  of  a  tyrant,  and  that  she  loved 
that  royal  family  whom  the  nation  had  adjudged 
not  fit  to  live.  "  If  my  brother  had  been  the 
tyrant  you  declare  him  to  have  been,"  the  prin- 
cess remarked,  "  you  would  not  be  where  you 
now  are,  nor  I  before  you."  But  it  is  vain  for 
the  lamb  to  plead  with  the  wolf.  She  was  con- 
demned to  die.  She  listened  to  her  sentence 
with  the  most  perfect  composure,  and  almost 
with  satisfaction.  The  only  favor  she  asked 
was,  that  she  might  see  a  priest,  and  receive  the 
consolations  of  religion,  according  to  the  faith 
she  professed.  Even  this  request  was  denied 
her.  The  crime  of  loyalty  was  of  too  deep  a 
dye  to  allow  of  any,  the  slightest,  mitigation  of 
punishment.  From  the  judgment  hall  she  was 
led  down  into  one  of  the  dungeons  of  the  Con- 
ciergerie,  where,  with  the  rest  of  her  compan- 
ions, she  awaited  the  execution  of  their  doom. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  melancholy  meeting.  These 
illustrious  captives  had  formerly  dwelt  in  the 


310  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          (1793 

Sad  reveieea.  Character  of  Madanao  Elizabeth. 

highest  splendor  which  earth  allows.  They  had 
met  in  regal  palaces,  surrounded  by  all  the  pomp 
and  grandeur  of  courts.  Now,  after  months  of 
the  most  cruel  imprisonment,  after  passing 
through  scenes  of  the  most  protracted  woe,  hav- 
'ing  been  deprived  of  all  their  possessions,  of  all 
their  ancestral  honors,  having  surrendered  one 
after  another  of  those  most  dear  to  them  to  the 
guillotine,  they  were  collected  in  a  dark  and 
foul  dungeon,  cold  and  wet,  hungry  and  ex- 
hausted, to  be  conveyed  in  a  few  hours,  in  the 
cart  of  the  condemned,  to  the  scaffold.  The 
character  of  Elizabeth  was  such,  her  weaned- 
ness  from  the  world,  her  mild -and  heavenly  spir- 
it, as  to  have  secured  almost  the  idolatrous  ven- 
eration of  those  who  knew  her.  The  compan- 
ions of  her  misfortunes  now  clustered  around 
her,  as  the  one  to  whom  they  must  look  for  sup- 
port and  strength  in  this  awful  hour.  The 
princess,  more  calm  and  peaceful  even  than 
when  surrounded  by  all  the  splendors  of  royalty, 
looked  forward  joyfully  to  the  guillotine  as  the 
conch  of  sweet  and  lasting  repose  Faith  ena- 
bled her  to  leave  the  children,  now  the  only  tie 
which  bound  her  to  earth,  in  the  hands  of  God, 
and,  conscious  that  she  had  dono  with  all  thing? 
earthly,  her  thoughts  were  directed  to  thoso 


1793.]     THE  ROYA.L   PRINCESSES.         311 

Madame  Elizabeth  at  the  guillotine.  Execution  of  her  campaniot* 

mansions  of  rest  which,  she  doubted  not,  were 
in  reserve  for  her.  She  bowed  her  head  with  a 
smile  tc  the  executioner  as  he  cut  off  her  long 
tresses  in  preparation  for  the  knife.  The-  locks 
fell  at  her  feet,  and  even  the  executioners  divkl- 
ed  them  among  them  as  memorials  of  her  love- 
liness and  virtue. 

Her  hands  were  bound  behind  her,  and  she 
was  placed  in  the  cart  with  twenty-two  com- 
panions of  noble  birth,  and  she  was  doomed  to 
wait  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  till  all  those 
heads  had  fallen,  before  her  turn  could  come. 
The  youth,  the  beauty,  the  innocence,  the  spot- 
less life  of  the  princess  seemed  to  disarm  the 
populace  of  their  rage,  and  they  gazed  upon  hex 
in  silence  and  almost  with  admiration.  Her 
name  had  ever  been  connected  with  every  thing 
that  was  pure  and  kind.  And  even  a  feeling 
of  remorse  seemed  to  pervade  the  concourse  sur- 
rounding the  scaffold  in  view  of  the  sacrifice  of 
so  blameless  a  victim. 

One  by  one,  as  the  condemned  ascended  the 
steps  of  the  guillotine  to  submit  to  the  dreadful 
execution,  they  approached  Elizabeth  and  en- 
circled her  in  an  affectionate  embrace.  At  last 
every  head  had  fallen  beneath  the  ax  but  that 
of  Elizabeth.  The  mutilated  bodies  were  be- 


312  MARIA     .ANTOINETTE.  [1793 

Death  of  Madame  Elizabeth  Her  faith  and  piety 

fore  her.  The  gory  heads  of  those  she  loved 
were  in  a  pile  by  her  side.  It  was  a  sight  to 
shock  the  stoutest  nerves.  But  the  princess, 
sustained  by  that  Christian  faith  which  had 
supported  her  through  her  almost  unparalleled 
woes,  apparently  without  a  tremor  ascended  the 
steps,  looked  calmly  and  benignantly  around 
upon  the  vast  multitude,  as  if  in  her  heart  she 
was  imploring  God's  blessing  upon  them,  and 
surrendered  herself  to  the  executioner.  Proba- 
bly not  a  purer  spirit  nor  one  more  attuned  for 
heaven  existed  in  France  than  the  one  which 
then  ascended  from  the  scaffold,  we  trust,  to 
the  bosom  of  God.  Maria  Antoinette  died  with 
the  pride  and  the  firmness  of  the  invincible 
queen.  Elizabeth  yielded  herself  to  the  spirit 
of  submissive  piety,  and  fell  asleep  upon  the  bo- 
som of  her  Savior.  Our  thoughts  would  more 
willingly  follow  her  to  those  mansions  of  rest, 
where  faith  instructs  us  that  she  winged  her 
flight,  than  turn  again  to  the  prison  where  the 
orphan  children  lingered  in  solitude  and  woe. 
Young  Louis  was  left  in  one  of  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Temple,  under  the  care  of  the  bru- 
tal Simon,  whose  commission  it  was  to  get  quit 
of  him.  To  send  a  child  of  seven  years  of  age 
to  the  guillotine  because  his  father  was  a  king, 


1793.]     THE  ROYAL  PRINCESSES.        313 

Situation  of  the  dauphin.  The  brute  Simon. 

was  a  step  which  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
then  was  hardly  willing  to  take,  out  of  regard 
to  the  opinions  of  the  world.  It  would  be  hard- 
ly consistent  with  the  character  of  the  great  na- 
tion iopoison  the  child  ;  and  yet,  while  he  lived, 
there  was  a  rallying  point  around  which  the 
sympathies  of  royalty  could  congregate.  Louis 
must  die!  Simon  must  not  kill  him  ;  he  must 
not  poison  him  ;  he  must  get  quit  of  him.  The 
public  safety  demands  it.  Patriotism  demands 
it.  In  the  accomplishment  of  this  undertaking, 
the  young  prince  was  shut  up  alone,  entirely 
alone,  like  a  caged  beast,  in  one  of  the  upper 
rooms  of  a  tower  of  the  Temple.  There  he  was 
left,  day  and  night,  week  after  week,  and  month 
after  month,  with  no  companion,  with  no  em- 
ployment, with  no  food  for  thought,  with  no  op- 
portunity for  exercise  or  to  breathe  the  fresh  air. 
A  flagon  of  water,  seldom  replenished,  was 
placed  at  his  bedside.  The  door  was  occasion- 
ally half  opened,  and  some  coarse  food  thrown 
in  to  the  poor  child.  He  never  washed  himself. 
For  more  than  a  year,  his  clothes,  his  shirt,  and 
his  shoes  had  never  been  changed.  For  six 
months  his  bed  was  not  made,  and  the  unhap- 
py child,  consigned  to  this  living  burial,  remain- 
ed silent  and  immovable  upon  the  impure  pai- 


314  MARIA    ANTOINETTE.          [1795 

Inhuman  treatment  of  the  dauphin.  Fl«  becomes  IHMIM 

let,  breathing  his  own  infection  By  long  in 
activity  his  limbs  became  rigid.  His  mind,  by 
the  dead  inaction  which  succeeded  terror,  lost 
its  energy,  and  became,  not  only  brutalized,  but 
depraved  The  noble  child  of  \v-arm  affections, 
polished  manners,  and  active  intellect,  was  thus 
degraded  far  below  the  ordinary  condition  of 
the  brute. 

Thus  eighteen  months  rolled  away,  and  the 
poor  boy  became  insane  through  mental  ex- 
haustion and  debility.  But  even  then  he  re- 
tained a  lively  sense  of  gratitude  for  every  word 
v  act  of  kindness.  At  one  time,  the  inhuman 
wrretoh  who  was  endeavoring. by  slow  torture  to 
xmduct  this  child  to  the  grave,  seized  him  by 
»he  hair,  and  threatened  to  dash  out  his  brains 
tgainst  the  wall.  A  surgeon,  M.  Naulin,  who 
chanced  to  be  near  by,  interfered  in  behalf  of 
the  unhappy  victim,  and  rescued  him  from  the 
rage  of  the  tyrant.  Two  pears  that  evening 
were  given  to  the  half-famished  child  for  his 
supper.  He  hid  them  under  his  pillow,  and 
went  supperless  to  sleep.  The  next  day  he  pre- 
sented the  two  pears  to  his  benefactor,  very  po- 
titely  expressing  his  regret  that  he  had  no  other 
means  of  manifesting  his  gratitude. 

Torrents  of  blood  were  daily  flowing  from 


1795.]     THE   ROYAL  PRINCESSES.         315 

The  reaction.  Change  in  the  dauphin's  treatment 

the  guillotine.  Illustrious  wealth,  or  rank,  01 
irirtue,  condemned  the  possessor  to  the  scaf- 
fold. Terror  held  its  reign  in  every  bosom. 
No  one  was  safe.  The  public  became  weary  of 
these  scenes  of  horror.  A  reaction  commenced. 
M*ny  of  the  firmest  Republicans,  overawed  by 
the  tyranny  of  the  mob,  began  secretly  to  long 
for  the  repose  which  kingly  power  had  given  the 
nation.  Sympathy  was  excited  for  the  woes  of 
the  imprisoned  prince.  It  is  difficult  to  record, 
without  pleasure,  that  one  of  the  first  acts  of 
this  returning  sense  of  humanity  consisted  in 
leading  the  barbarous  Simon  to  the  guillotine 
History  does  not  inform  us  whether  he  shud- 
dered in  view  of  his  crimes  under  the  ax.  But 
his  crimes  were  almost  too  great  for  humanity 
to  forgive.  Louis  was  placed  under  the  care  of 
more  merciful  keepers.  His  wasted  frame  and 
delirious  mind,  generous  and  affectionate  even 
in  its  delirium,  moved  their  sympathy  and  their 
tears.  They  washed  and  dressed  their  Jttle 
prisoner ;  spake  to  him  in  tones  of  kindness ; 
aoothed  and  comforted  him.  Louis  gazod  upon 
them  with  a  vacant  air,  hardly  knowing,  after 
more  than  two  years  of  hatred,  execration,  and 
abuse,  what  to  make  of  expressions  of  gentle- 
ness and  mercy.  But  it  was  too  late.  Simon 


S16  MARIA   ANTOINEITK.          [179ft 

Death  of  the  dauphiE.  Sympathy  awakened  by  H 

had  faithfully  executed  his  task.  The  oonsti 
tution  of  the  young  prince  was  hopelessly  under- 
mined. He  was  seized  with  a  fever.  The  Con  • 
rention,  ashamed  of  the  past,  sent  the  celebrated 
physician  Dessault  to  visit  him.  The  patient, 
inured  to  suffering,  with  blighted  hopes  and  a 
crushed  heart,  lingered  in  silence  and  patience 
for  a  few  days  upon  his  bed,  and  died  on  the  9th 
of  June,  1795,  in  the  tenth  year  of  his  age. 

The  change  which  had  commenced  in  the 
public  mind,  preparing  the  way  for  Napoleon  to 
quell  these  revolutionary  horrors,  was  so  great, 
that  a  very  general  feeling  of  sympathy  was 
awakened  by  the  death  of  the  young  prince,  and 
a  feeling  of  remorse  pervaded  the  conscience  of 
the  nation.  History  contains  few  stories  more 
sorrowful  than  the  death  of  this  child.  To  the 
limited  vision  of  mortals,  it  is  indeed  inexplica- 
ble why  he  should  have  been  left  by  that  God, 
who  rules  in  infinite  wisdom  and  love,  to  so 
dreadful  a  fate.  For  the  solution  of  this  and  all 
other  inexplicable  mysteries  of  the  divine  gov- 
ernment, we  must  look  forward  to  our  immor- 
tality. 

But  we  must  return  to  Maria  Theresa.     Wa 
left  her  at  midnight,  delirious  with  grief  and 
,  upon   the  pallet  of  her  cell,  her  aum 


1795.)     THE   ROYAL   PR  WCKSSES.         317 

Situation  of  the  princegi  royal.  Her  deep  §nffering», 

having  just  been  torn  from  her  embrace.  Even 
the  ravages  of  captivity  had  not  destroyed  the 
exceeding  beauty  of  the  princess,  now  sixteen 
fears  of  age.  The  slow  hours  of  that  night  of 
anguish  lingered  away,  and  the  morning,  cheer- 
less and  companionless,  dawned  through  the 
'grated  window  of  her  prison  upon  her  woe. 
Thus  days  and  nights  went  and  came.  She 
knew  not  what  had  been  the  fate  of  her  mother. 
She  knew  not  what  doom  awaited  her  aunt. 
She  could  have  no  intercourse  with  her  brother, 
who  she  only  knew  was  suffering  every  con- 
ceivable outrage  in  another  part  of  the  prison. 
Her  food  was  brought  to  her  by  those  who  loved 
to  show  their  brutal  power  over  the  daughter 
of  a  long  line  of  kings.  Weeks  and  months 
thus  rolled  on  without  any  alleviation — without 
the  slightest  gleam  of  joy  or  hope  penetrating 
the  midnight  gloom  of  her  cell.  It  is  impossible 
for  the  imagination  to  paint  the  anguish  en- 
dured by  this  beautiful,  intellectual,  affection- 
ate, and  highly-accomplished  princess  during 
these  weary  months  of  solitude  and  captivity. 
Every  indulgence  was  withheld  from  her,  and 
oonsoious  existence  became  the  most  weighty 
•*oe.  Thus  a  year  and  a  half  lingered  slowly 
away,  while  the  reign  of  terror  was  holding  it* 


318  MAKIA  ANTOINETTE.         11790 

Sympathy  for  the  princess  -royal.  She  is  released 

high  carnival  in  the  streets  of  blood-deluged 
Paris,  and  every  friend  of  royalty,  of  whatever 
sex  or  age,  all  over  the  empire,  was  hunted  dowa 
without  mercy. 

When  the  reactipn  awakened  by  these  hor- 
rors commenced  in  the  public  mind,  the  rigor 
of  her  captivity  was  somewhat  abated.  The 
death  of  her  brother  roused  in  her  behalf,  as  the 
only  remaining  child  of  the  wrecked  and  ruined 
family,  such  a  feeling  of  sympathy,  that  the  As- 
sembly consented  to  regard  her  as  a  prisoner  of 
war,  and  to  exchange  her  with  the  Austrian 
government  for  four  French  officers  whom  they 
held  as  prisoners.  Maria  Theresa  was  led,  pale 
pensive,  heart-broken,  hopeless,  from  her  cell, 
and  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  relatives  of  her 
mother.  But  her  griefs  had  been  so  deep,  her 
bereavements  so  utter  and  heart-rending,  that 
this  change  seemed  to  her  only  a  mitigation  of 
misery,  and  not  an  accession  of  joy.  She  was 
informed  of  the  death  of  her  mother  and  her 
aunt,  and,  weeping  over  her  desolation,  she 
emerged  from  her  prison  cell  and  entered  the 
carriage  to  return  to  me  palaces  of  Austria, 
where  her  unhappy  mother  had  passed  the 
hours  of  her  childhood.  As  she  rode  along 
through  the  green  fieids  and  looked  out  upon 


1795.]     THE   ROYAL   PRINCESSES. 

Arrival  of  the  princess  royal  In  Vienna.  Her  settled  melanchotp 

the  blue  sky,  through  which  the  summer's  sui 
was  shedding  its  beams — as  she  felt  the  pure 
air,  from  which  she  had  so  long  been  excluded, 
fanning  her  cheeks,  and  realized  that  she  waa 
safe  from  insults  and  once  more  free,  anguish 
gave  place  to  a  calm  and  settled  melancholy 
She  arrived  in  Vienna.  Love  and  admiration 
encircled  her.  Every  heart  vied  in  endeavors 
to  lavish  soothing  words  and  delicate  attentions 
upon  this  stricken  child  of  grief.  She  buried  her 
face  in  the  bosoms  of  those  thus  soliciting  her 
love,  her  eyes  were  flooded  with  tears,  and  she 
sobbed  with  almost  a  bursting  heart.  After  her 
arrival  in  Vienna,  one  full  year  passed  away  be- 
fore a  smile  could  ever  be  won  to  visit  her  cheek 
Woes  such  as  she  had  endured  pass  not  away 
like  the  mists  of  the  morning.  The  hideous 
dream  haunted  her  by  day  and  by  night.  The 
headless  trunks  of  her  father,  her  mother,  and  her 
aunt  were  ever  before  her  eyes.  Her  belovec1 
brother,  suffering  and  dying  upon  a  beggar's  bed, 
was  ever  present  in  her  dreams  while  reposing 
under  the  imperial  canopy  of  the  Austrian  kings. 
The  past  had  been  so  long  and  so  awful  thai 
it  seemed  an  ever-living  reality.  The  sudden 
change  she  could  hardly  credit  but  as  the  de» 
lirium  of  a  dream. 


.320  M.AJUA    ANTOINETTE.         [1795 

Lore  felt  for  Maria.  She  recoreri  her  cheerfoloeii 

Time,  however,  will  diminish  the  poignancy 
of  every  sorrow  save  those  of  remorse.  Maria 
was  now  again  in  a  regal  palace,  surrounded 
with  every  luxury  which  earth  could  confer 
She  was  young  and  beautiful.  She  was  be 
loved,  dOid  almost  adored.  Every  monarch, 
every  prince,  every  embassador  from  a  foreign 
court,  delighted  to  pay  her  especial  honor.  No 
heart  throbbed  near  her  but  with  the  desire  to 
render  her  some  compensation  for  the  wrongs 
and  the  woes  which  had  fallen  upon  her  youth- 
ful and  guileless  heart.  Wherever  she  appeared; 
she  was  greeted  with  love  and  homage.  Thoso 
who  had  never  seen  her  would  willingly  peril 
their  lives  in  any  way  to  serve  her.  Thus  was 
she  raised  to  consideration,  and  enshrined  in  the 
affections  of  every  soul  retaining  one  spark  of 
noble  feeling.  The  past  receded  farther  and 
farther  from  her  view,  the  present  arose  more 
and  more  vividly  before  the  eye.  Joy  gradually 
returned  to  that  bosom  from  which  it  had  so 
long  been  a  stranger.  The  flowers  bloomed 
beautifully  before  her  eyes,  the  birds  sung  me- 
lodiously in  her  ears.  The  fair  face  of  creation, 
with  mountain,  vale,  and  river,  beguiled  hei 
thoughts,  and  introduced  images  of  peace  and 
beauty  to  dispel  the  hideous  phantoms  of  dun 


1795.]     THE   ROYAL  PRINCESSES.         321 

Maria's  marriage.  Her  present  residence 

geons  and  misery.     The  morning  drive  around 
the  beautiful  metropolis ;  the  evening  serenade ; 
the  moonlight  sail ;  and,  above  all,  the  voice  of 
love,  reanimated  her  heart,  and  roused  her  afieo 
tions  from  the  tomb  in  which  they  so  long  had 
slumbered.      The  smile  of  youth,  though  still 
pensive  and  melancholy,  began  to  illumine  her 
saddened  features.      Hope  of  future  joy  rose 
to  cheer  her.      The  Due  d'Angouleme,  son  of 
Charles  X.,  sought  her  as  his  bride,  and  she  was 
led  in  tranquil  happiness  to  the  altar,  feeling  as 
few  can  feel  the  luxury  of  being  tenderly  beloved. 
Upon  the  fall  of  Napoleou  she  returned  to 
France  with  the  i>ourbon  tamily,  and  again 
moved,  with  smiles  of  sadness,  among  the  bril- 
liant throng  crowding  the  palaces  of  her  ances- 
tors.    The  Revolution  of  1830,  which  drove  the 
Bourbons  again  from  the  throne  of  France,  drove 
Maria  Theresa,  now  Duchesse  d'Angouleme, 
again  into  exile.     She  resided  for  a  time  with 
her  husband  in  the  Castle  of  Holyrood,  in  Scot- 
land, under  the  name  of  the  Count  and  Count- 
d»s  of  Main ;  but  the  climate  being  too  severe 
for  her  constitution,  she  left  that  region  foi 
Vienna.     There  she  was  received  with  every 
possible  demonstration  of  respect  and  affection 
She  now  resides  in  the  imperial  oastle  of  Prague 
11—21 


322  MARIA  ANTOINETTE.          [1795 

Adranced  age  of  Maria.  Still  retains  traces  of  her  early  (orrowft 

a  venerated  widow,  having  passed  through  three- 
score years  and  ten  of  a  more  varied  life  than  is 
often  experienced  by  mortals.  Even  to  the 
present  hour,  her  furrowed  cheeks  retain  the 
traces,  in  their  pensive  expression,  of  the  sorrow 
which  darkened  her  early  years. 


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